A Profane Hymn
by Liathwen
Summary: Many think that Sherlock and Molly met in the morgue. The reality is a bit more complicated.
1. Chapter One

**Dear reader, in this fic, Sherlock does not practice good domming. Please do not take his actions as an example of a good bdsm relationship. He will improve in the following fics but for now he is new and stupid, so please please don't think that this is a good way to do it. Thanks!**

This fic will be ten chapters and will be updated either biweekly or once a month depending on how fast I get these long chapters out.

* * *

 ** _I thought of angels, choking on their halos_**

 ** _Get them drunk on rose water._**

 ** _See how dirty I can get them, pulling out their fragile teeth_**

 ** _And clip their tiny wings._**

 ** _Just One Yesterday – Fall Out Boy_**

* * *

"Clearly you don't belong here. Though you are putting up quite a good show of it."

Molly Hooper jumped, whirling on her heel to find the deep baritone that had spoken so close to her ear. She stumbled, sloshing her drink over her hand, and giggled. She hadn't been this drunk, possibly ever, and she felt wonderfully numb and happy in the dark club and so chose to ignore the stranger's rude comment. Her roommate had abandoned her not too long before, heading out onto the dance floor. Meena had been restless, eager to burn of the energy of the alcohol and the anxiety of a hard week at uni.

"And you are?" she asked, slurring out the words, an eyebrow raised as she gazed appreciatively at the man who stood before her.

He was maybe two or three years older than she, and strikingly handsome. His face was sharp, defined by impossibly high cheekbones and plush lips. Molly licked her own thin lips appreciatively and tucked a loose lock of long brown hair behind her ear, before returning her eyes to his face.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, leaning forward to whisper it in her ear, using his impressive height to tower over her, unruly dark brown curls falling across his forehead. Molly shivered, desire rushing over her. When he pulled back, she caught a closer glimpse of his eyes, and the vague thought occurred to her from the almost completely silenced analytical part of her mind, that his electric blue-green eyes were far too dilated even for the oppressive darkness of the club.

"Doesn't it?" she inquired, fighting to make her tongue form the words. She had really had too much, but considering that she'd been partying like this each weekend for months, it didn't really matter to her. All that mattered was forgetting. She grinned at the man, eyeing his fit body, perfectly showcased in a tight white button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and black dress trousers. He could be the perfect distraction for the night, if he was willing.

"Not at all," he said firmly. "Though I could tell you quite a bit about yourself, if I was so inclined," he continued, his mouth curving in a smirk that made him even more devilishly handsome. Molly eyed his lips, feeling the urge the run her tongue across them. She settled for placing her index finger lightly against his mouth.

"Not a word," she whispered, her face inches from his own. Her eyes flitted back to his lips and in a split second, she felt herself pushed against the wall of the club, with his lips on hers. She didn't even notice when she dropped her drink, the glass shattering against the concrete floor, to wrap her arms around the stranger.

He kissed like a storm, drowning her in the sudden onslaught, making her simultaneously feel as if she should hide and also that she wanted to dance in the downpour. His tongue brushed her lips, demanding entry to her mouth as he controlled her with one hand cupping her chin tightly.

Molly yielded beautifully, opening to his touch like a flower to the sun, reveling in the way he took complete control, nearly forcing the reactions from her. His free hand slid up her outer thigh, brushing her bare skin as he slowly inched up the flouncy miniskirt she wore. He reached around to grip her arse under the skirt, groaning as he rolled her body against his own. Molly gasped into his mouth, feeling his cock press against her hip. She needed more, needed him, and was whimpering with desire as he continued snogging her, flattening her small body between the wall and his own, much larger, frame. He pulled back slightly, breathing hard, and ghosted his lips over hers.

"Your place, or mine?" he asked simply, and Molly bit into her bottom lip. Chances were that her roommate wasn't going to be home that night, but she didn't feel like taking the risk. Besides, she could make a cleaner escape in the morning if he didn't know where she lived. Decision made, she opened her mouth, and was surprised by his lips cutting off her words. He kissed her hard, then pulled back to grin roguishly at her.

"Mine, perfect."

Her brows furrowed as her alcohol-fogged mind puzzled over his ability to know what she was going to say before she said it. He winked at her and stepped back, grabbing her hand. He practically dragged her through the crowd, stopping once to stare down a blond man who had reached out to grab Molly's free arm in an attempt to speak to her. The look on her escort's face was truly terrifying and Molly gulped, looking between the two men. Luckily, the blond backed down quickly, and her curly-haired companion continued hauling her through the throng of people. They reached the door and both took a deep gulp of clean, cool, spring air as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. He threw a hand up, flagging down a cab as he simultaneously pulled Molly close with his other arm, threading his fingers through her long brown hair to pull her chin up, his lips once again crashing onto hers.

His dexterous fingers massaged the back of her head slightly as he kissed her, and Molly once again felt as if she was being dragged along in the wake of his overwhelming control. She let out a small whimper and he pulled back, staring down at her and bringing his other hand down to trail a single finger along her cheek.

A cab pulled up and he turned, opening the door for her to scoot inside. He followed, and gave an address to the driver, settling back into the seat and pulling Molly tightly against him. He placed his hand on her bare leg, his fingers ghosting across her pale skin, inching slowly further up her inner thigh. Molly tried to hold still as his fingers drifted dangerously close to her sex, trailing along the edge of her knickers. She wanted nothing more than to pull his hand to her pussy, for him to touch her, bring relief to the ache that was rapidly building in her core. She made a movement, and his other hand shot out, capturing hers and forcing it to the seat between them.

"No," he whispered in her ear, following his words with his tongue, making her squirm. "You will not move, not make a sound. Take it, there's a good girl."

Molly's breath caught in her chest as a flood of wetness coated her pussy. She'd often wished in the past that her sexual partners had been more forceful, more controlling. Now, this gorgeous man with the expressive eyes was looking at her like she was the prey to his predator. It thrilled her.

She shivered, leaning against him slightly and parting her legs just the tiniest bit. He sucked in a breath and almost instantly his fingers were delving under the thin material of her knickers and plunging into her pussy, running along her slit. He kept his upper body still, not a hint of what he was doing visible to the driver. His long fingers found her opening and he slipped two fingers shallowly into her. He smirked at her gasp and pulled back, circling the wet digits around her clit. Molly went rigid the second he touched the sensitive bundle of nerves and he chuckled softly. He slowly ran his fingers over her, circling leisurely, until Molly was panting and fighting to not grind herself against his hand.

"You want it so bad, don't you? You wicked girl, you want me to get you off right here in the back of the cab. Tell me, I want to hear you say it," he whispered in her ear, shifting to suck a dark mark into the skin just below it. Molly shuddered, trying in vain to regulate her rapid breathing.

"God yes, please," she gasped back, praying she was quiet enough that the cabbie wouldn't hear them.

"Please what, tell me or I'll stop," he said, her earlobe between his teeth.

"Ungh!" Molly was panting, just on the edge of what promised to be an epic orgasm. "Make me cum, oh god, make me cum!" Her voice was little more than a needy whine.

"Good girl," he praised, and redoubled his efforts against her pussy. Mere seconds later, Molly stiffened, her back arching as her lips formed a perfect O shape and her eyes snapped closed. He gave her no mercy, rubbing at her sensitive clit until she reached down to drag his hand away. Molly stared at him, dazed, as he pulled his hand up to his face and sucked his fingers into his mouth.

"Mmm," he moaned with approval. "You are delicious." He grinned ferally at her. "I'm going to devour you, little one."

Molly moaned as he captured her lips again, barely letting her breathe for the remainder of the cab ride. The second the car stopped, he was tossing money in the general direction of the cabbie and pulling Molly out onto the sidewalk. He pulled her up to a building and pressed her against the door, her back to the cool surface. He grinned at her and kissed her again, one hand delving under her shirt as his other hand magically produced a set of keys, deftly unlocking the door. A push, and they were stumbling into the foyer, frantically tearing at each other's clothes. His shirt hit the floor along with his shoes, and her shoes, shirt and skirt. With a growl, he picked her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He manouvered around a set of stairs and down a hall to enter the ground floor flat, kicking the door closed behind him.

He navigated the room, stepping around a couch, and set her down gingerly in a large leather chair with wooden legs. He knelt between her legs and pulled one of them up, hooking her knee over his shoulder and flashed a devilish smile at her before pressing his face into her knickers, inhaling deeply. She gasped and moaned loudly, spreading her legs even wider for him as he teased her, sucking at her clit through the lacey material. She writhed against him, desperate for more friction and he growled. Working swiftly, he pulled her knickers from her and leaned up to capture her lips as he worked his hands behind her and unhooked her bra after a couple of tries. He grabbed her legs and hooked them over the arms of the chair and licked his lips as he gazed hungrily at her pussy. She instinctively tried to close her legs, but his hands on her inner thighs stopped her.

"No, no, no," he chided, shaking his head. "I think you need some help keeping yourself spread for me, don't you?" He smirked and picked up her bra. "Hold still," he instructed, and grasped one of her thighs, looping the bra around both her leg and the arm of the chair, before tying it securely, and slipping a couple fingers under the binding to ensure that it was not too tight. He picked up her knickers and proceeded to do the same to the other leg before realizing that there wasn't enough material to do so. With a grin, he tore them, making the strip longer, and tied her other leg.

"Sorry about that," he said cheekily as Molly groaned at the loss of her underwear. "Okay?" he asked. "Not too tight?" For a moment, he looked almost shy as he glanced up at Molly to gauge her reactions. She shook her head and he immediately dropped back down, hooking one arm around her thigh and burying his face in her wet cunt, sucking and licking ravenously at her.

Molly let out a high pitched shriek as his hot tongue delved into her pussy, and her hands went automatically to his hair, her fingers tangling in his dark curls. He groaned against her and she pulled harder, feeling him gasp against her. He shifted and Molly opened her eyes, hearing his zip. He glanced up at her, his blue eyes hazy with pleasure and Molly watched, spellbound, as his hand closed around his cock. His lips closed around her clit and he sucked as he pleasured himself. Molly licked her lips at the erotic sight, unable to look away. Her orgasm hit her so suddenly, she barely registered that she was close before she was gasping and straining against her bonds. He let her come down from her high before surging up to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She greedily sucked his bottom lip, as his hands busied themselves with untying her. He stood and picked her up again, one hand rubbing the dented skin of her thigh.

"All right?" he asked, and she nodded breathlessly, before pulling him back down for a kiss.

He moaned helplessly into her mouth and carried her through the dark flat to a door past the kitchen and down the hall, pausing to kick it open. She barely registered the contents of the room before he had her flat on her back, and was reaching into the side table to snag a condom. He ripped open the packet and slid it onto his cock, quickly covering her body with his once again. He held her wrists above her head with one large hand, and rubbed a single finger across her lips. Her tongue darted out and she captured the digit, sucking it into her mouth. He groaned and leaned down to nip at her collarbone in retaliation. She let go of his finger and he rubbed the wet tip of it on one nipple, before blowing cool air on it, hardening it almost to the point of pain.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he reached down to grasp his cock and rub it against her wet entrance. He looked up at her and Molly bit her lip, nodding slightly at him. He groaned and pushed into her slowly, not stopping until he was fully inside her. Molly panted heavily as he stilled within her, letting her adjust to his size. Finally, she rolled her hips against him and he grinned down at her, pressing her hands down into the pillow slightly to indicate that she should keep them there. He let go and grasped her arse with both hands, angling her up before pulling out to the tip and slamming back into her.

Molly screamed out in pleasure with the first thrust, and quickly found herself breathless as he began fucking her hard, each push strong enough to move her up on the mattress. She grasped at the headboard and found a hold to anchor herself against his merciless thrusting. He clenched his teeth together and sat back on his heels, pulling her arse up even further, his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her want to scream aloud. He fucked her hard and fast, giving her no time to breathe, and Molly quickly felt her third orgasm of the night approaching.

"Cum, ungh, cum with me," she gasped out, and he nodded frantically, not slowing his pace.

"Watch me," he demanded. "Look at me when you cum."

His command tipped her over the edge and her back arched off the bed and her hands came down to grasp at his hips as he pounded into her wildly. She had to force herself to keep her eyes on him, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm her, but she was rewarded for her obedience by the sight of him succumbing to his own bliss, thrusting into her and stilling, his whole body tense, muscles standing out on his slim frame, teeth clenched as he cursed lowly.

"Christ, fuck," he panted, collapsing to the bed next to Molly. He wearily pulled off the condom and knotted it before dropping it into a waste bin next to the bed. He rolled back over and, to Molly's surprise, pulled her close, his arms tight around her waist.

"Stay," he whispered, nuzzling her neck, pressing light kisses to the skin. She chewed her lip, debating, but finally nodded, and soon they both were fast asleep, tangled in each other's arms.

* * *

Molly woke in the wee hours of the morning with the pressing urge to pee. She looked over at the man next to her. Luckily, they had shifted during the night and were no longer cuddled intimately together. She sighed quietly, and crept out of the bed and room, making her way to the bathroom.

After relieving herself, Molly glanced in the mirror and gasped. Her neck and upper chest were dotted with love bites and her hair was an absolute mess. She combed her fingers through the rat's nest and tried to bring some semblance of order to it, finally giving it up as hopeless.

She crept into the living room and dressed quickly, frowning at her ripped knickers. They were useless now, and she wasn't looking forward to going home in the chilly pre-dawn air without underwear. An wicked little idea came to her, and she smiled, dropping the knickers into the chair that he'd bound her to just a few hours before.

One more look around, and Molly walked out of the flat and downstairs, disappearing into the night.

* * *

Sherlock woke several hours later with a massive hangover. His mouth was dry and tasted of stale cigarettes and whiskey. He blinked groggily at the ceiling, registering the rays of sunshine cascading across his room and groaned, realizing that he'd missed lunch with his parents. Automatically, he began to formulate an excuse, his mind stirring to life from its dormant state of intoxication. He grinned suddenly, remembering the night before and rolled over, fully intending to gather the girl up in his arms and seduce her into accompanying him to a rather late lunch, knowing that if he showed up with a girl, that all would be forgiven without a fuss. (His mother especially was becoming desperate for grandchildren.)

Sherlock's grin faded when he realized that the petite girl wasn't there. Sherlock sat up, feeling the sheets on the other side of his bed. They were stone cold and he frowned. She had been gone for a couple of hours at least. He pursed his lips in annoyance that he hadn't woken when the bed shifted. He sniffed, climbing out of bed and stretching, cracking the bones in his battered frame.

He didn't even know her name. But no matter, she wasn't important. He could pull anytime, it wasn't like the small girl with the large chocolate eyes was special. He gulped, remembering the way she moved under him, writhing and moaning in pleasure. He wished now that he _had_ exchanged names with her, if only so that his mind could conjure up the memory of his name falling from her lips as she screamed in ecstasy.

He scowled down at himself as his cock took a sudden interest in his wayward thoughts. Well, he needed a shower anyway, and his sudden erection would take much more effort to will away than to just give in to. Decision made, Sherlock headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower, climbing in after a moment. He took a deep breath and relaxed, the warm water soothing his aching muscles. His eyes flew open as an image of the girl in the shower with him, on her knees at his feet, popped into his brain. He groaned and braced one hand against the wall in front of him, his free hand going to his cock. Sherlock closed his eyes again, this time willing the picture into existence. And there she was, long brown hair soaked, sticking to her face and neck, down her chest to cover her skin, giving just a glimpse of her dusky nipples poking through. Her lips were red and swollen like they had been the night before, and he groaned again as the vision bit her lip playfully, before sitting up on her knees, her mouth level with his groin. And then her lips were on him, her hands working the shaft, her throat opening for him. Sherlock thrust into his hand helplessly, moaning encouragements to the girl in his mind. It wasn't long before he lost control, spilling into his hand with a shout.

"Brother mine," came a voice from the bathroom door. "If you are quite finished, our parents have come to visit you."

Sherlock groaned again, this time in exasperation.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, a fully dressed Sherlock stalked into the sitting room, intent on first, appeasing his parents, and then shooing them out of his small flat so that he could use his newly developed art of deletion to remove the girl from his memory.

"Ah, there he is."

Sherlock frowned at his older brother, eyes narrowed.

"Hello Mycroft, been a good week at the bakery I see. You've stopped every morning."

Mycroft scowled at him, but was silent as their mother tutted quietly.

"Oh you two, now be civil to each other." She smiled pleasantly at Sherlock. "Well since you missed luncheon, your father and I thought we might bring you a bite to eat." She motioned to the take away container on the countertop and Sherlock grinned appreciatively at the aroma of curry emanating from it. Without any qualms, he reached for it and dug in with the fork conveniently resting on top.

"Thank you mummy," he said between bites. After a moment of chewing, he froze, eyes trained on his chair where a torn pair of knickers sat innocently on the seat.

"You're slipping, Sherlock," Mycroft said, a hint of glee in his normally passive voice. "Even father noticed quicker than you. Tell me, was it the alcohol or the sex that dulled your brain this time?"

"Oh hush up Mycroft!" ordered Mummy. "I think it's wonderful that he's brought a girl home. Is she still here?"

Sherlock gulped his bite down quickly. "No Mummy, she had a prior engagement," he fumbled, blushing crimson as he set down the curry and flew across the room to snatch up the offending garment and stuff it into his trouser pocket.

"Ah well," Mummy sighed, and Sherlock froze. She was doing her best to look wounded, and damn it, if it wasn't working on him. "Maybe we'll meet her sometime?" she asked hopefully, and Sherlock cursed inwardly.

"Of course, Mummy." His gaze cut to Mycroft, taking in the smug look plastered to his face but he, miraculously, said nothing.

* * *

Ten minutes later and Sherlock had managed to shoo his family out the door with empty promises of visits to the theatre echoing in the stairwell.

He turned on his heel and frowned, pulling the torn pair of knickers from his pocket. He _had_ intended to delete the girl without a second thought but he could not let this pass without a word. She'd outted him to his parents and brother and caused him quite a bit of embarrassment.

 _Oh no, this absolutely cannot stand,_ Sherlock thought to himself.

He pursed his lips as he pondered his options, then smirked as he lit upon the answer. Picking up his cell, he dialed a familiar number and listened to the voice on the other end.

"Yeah listen Victor, I need a favor."

It turned out that Sherlock didn't need to call in a favor from his one and only friend, Victor Trevor, who knew absolutely everyone in the University. (Not to mention he'd slept with at least half of them, men and women. Sherlock had been beyond pleased to discover that his mystery girl had not been one of Victor's conquered.) After a while, it had become apparent that Victor didn't, in fact, know everyone, as he'd had no idea who the mystery girl was when Sherlock had described her to him.

Even with Sherlock's supreme skills of deduction, they were unable to narrow her down enough to find her, and Sherlock spent the next three days sulking.

* * *

"Ugh, could that cock load us up with any more work? You'd think the profs would take it easy this close to finals," Meena complained, her voice taking on that nasally whine that grated on Molly's nerves, not that she'd ever comment on it. A loud shush came from a couple of tables over and Meena stuck her tongue out at the boy with the glasses who had dared to issue it.

"Meena, keep it down, they take the library seriously," Molly remarked, her eyes never leaving the papers in front of her.

"Easy for you to say, you're just grading. That prof has got it for you."

"Ugh, McDermish?" Molly asked, with a shudder. "Just no. Besides, he's a prof and that's not happening."

"Oh come on, everyone already thinks you're sleeping with him because your grades are so good in his class. You might as well prove them right. It's not like he's bad looking." Meena stared dreamily into space for a moment before winking at Molly.

"Not my type," Molly replied, nose once again buried in the paper she was painting with bright red marks.

"Speaking of your type, tell me all about Saturday," Meena whispered, waggling her eyebrows. "You did the walk of shame, I saw you."

Molly grinned, chucking a crumpled paper across the table at her roommate. "Only because you were hugging the toilet," she countered, laughing quietly.

"Ugh don't remind me," Meena moaned dramatically. "Thank God there was a recovery day in there or I'd never have survived Monday. I'm never drinking again!"

"Where have I heard that before?" Molly muttered under her breath and was promptly hit in the face with the same wad of paper. "Oi!"

"So? Spill! What was he like, was he hot? We haven't had a chance to talk since then and it's already Wednesday! What was his name?"

Molly groaned, knowing that her friend wouldn't give up easily. "He was dominating, yes he was hot, and I didn't get his name. That's all there is to know. Did you finish the muscle chart?"

Meena frowned and crossed her arms, poking her full lips out in a pout. "You know I didn't and I'm not letting you off that easily, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. You rarely go home with a bloke, and you **never** spend the night. What made this one special?"

Molly sighed. "I don't know, I was really pissed?"

She rubbed her temples. In truth, she'd thought a lot about the mysterious man she'd hooked up with. His eyes kept flitting through her mind at inconvenient times, startling her and turning her on. She swore that she could still feel his hands on her, his cock pressed against her, his mouth sucking marks into her neck. She adjusted her scarf self-consciously. Meena's eyes narrowed.

"Why are you wearing that bloody scarf Mols? It's practically summer outside." She motioned to the window where the late February sun blazed down, heating the city to record high temperatures. Her eyes widened and she jumped up, knocking her chair over backwards. "MOLS DO YOU HAVE LOVE BITES?!" she demanded, as Molly winced and clapped a hand over her eyes as someone in the distance griped at them for the volume of their conversation. Meena shot them a quelling glance.

"Oh my god, will you sit down and shut up?" Molly hissed between her teeth, looking away from Meena, feeling a blush heat her cheeks.

"At least tell me what he looked like! He had to have been good to leave marks that are still there after three days," her friend pouted as she straightened her chair and seated herself once again. Molly smiled to herself, remembering a pair of blue-green eyes and a mop of dark brown curls.

"I've got to go, Meena," she said, waving a paper under her friend's nose. "I've got to meet up with this… thing… that writes so terribly. One more paper as illegible as this one is and I'm going to stop trying to decipher them and just fail the bloke. At least, I think it's a male."

Meena nodded sagely. "Must be, with handwriting that bad. You shouldn't have to put up with that, you're just the grader. You aren't getting paid for that stuff."

"Yeah well, wish me luck, they are supposed to meet me in the American Lit section."

Molly shouldered her bag and headed off to the other side of the library, offending document in hand.

* * *

Sherlock leapt up the steps and entered the library. A quick check of his watch showed that it was time to meet with the prick who was threatening to fail him in Chemistry. It wouldn't normally matter, but if Sherlock was sent down again so close to graduating, his parents would have his head on a plate. So he turned and headed for the American Literature section, cursing his ill luck at getting a grader who wouldn't just wade through his poor handwriting.

He finally got to the right place and turned a corner, running smack into a much shorter person whose face collided with his chest.

The girl let out a single high pitched shriek and fell backwards, arms flailing to find something to keep her upright. She happened to latch onto Sherlock who was too busy grumbling to brace himself, and they both tumbled over, Sherlock falling directly on top of the girl.

He caught himself with his arms, making an effective cage around the small girl's head and pushed up, intent on giving her a piece of his mind, but stopped short as he focused on her face.

There she was.

His mystery girl was cursing a mile a minute as she pulled hair out of her face and looked up to direct her cursing at him, having realized he wasn't moving to get off of her. Her words died off though, as she recognized him. In that moment, Sherlock did what was perhaps the most impulsive thing he'd ever done: he leaned back down and kissed the breath out of her.

He then stood and helped her to her feet, having deduced from the papers laying on the floor next to them that she was in fact, his grader.

"You'll learn to read it," he said, winking at her before turning to walk away.

Sherlock smirked as he walked down several aisles and turned, headed for a darkened corner in the rarely used section on British Law. The law classes were in session at the moment so there was virtually no chance of someone wandering back there. He heard quick footsteps behind him after a moment and grinned, pausing so she'd see him just before he turned the last corner. He stopped and leaned against the bookshelf, pretending to be interested in a dusty tome he pulled from the shelf. A feminine throat-clearing had him looking up and feigning surprise at the presence.

She stood with her hands on her hips, her lips tight and jaw clenched.

"What do you think you are doing?!" she demanded, whispering as loudly as she dared.

He held the book up and shook it slightly in her direction. "Reading," he drawled, with a slow grin. "What else do people do in libraries?" he added, suggestively quirking a single brow.

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Don't give me that shit," she said, and he smiled even broader at her language. "I've never seen you here, not even once!" She shook her head at him.

"No, you asked to see me. You're rather lucky I showed up though, I wouldn't normally."

"And I'm supposed to believe that you suddenly pop up out nowhere and oh look, you're the brilliant student I'm about to fail for ridiculously poor handwriting?" She flushed as she complimented and insulted him in the same sentence. "That's supposed to be a coincidence?"

"Do you know what we say about coincidences in my family?" he asked and she gave him a confused look. Sherlock snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf before leaning over her, pleased to see her flush pink again in the close proximity. "There is no such thing," he told her. His gaze flitted to the opening they had come from and back to her as he positioned himself in front of her.

He watched the connections form in her mind as her gaze darted from his face to the corner they occupied and back again. She unconsciously licked her bottom lip and his eyes followed the motion. Sherlock leaned towards her slowly to give her time to pull back, and when she held her ground, he captured her lips, one hand coming up to cup her chin and the other to grasp her hip tightly. She moaned into his mouth and Sherlock pulled her against him, turning to press her into the shelves. He pinned her there with his hips, grinding his erection into her. He pulled her hands above her head, kissing down her arm and smirking at her scarf. He pulled it from her, not bothering to hide his grin when he saw the fading marks decorating her pale skin.

"This is crazy," she gasped out as his lips closed over one of the places he'd marked before. "I barely even know your name."

"Sherlock Holmes, my handwriting isn't THAT bad," he whispered against her skin. "There, introductions made. Now I'd like very much to fuck you, Molly Hooper."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know my name," she muttered, rolling her eyes as he straightened to look at her, his lips inches from hers. "And no! We can't do this here! We'll get caught and, I don't know, get in trouble. Or worse, expelled."

"Come on Hooper, live a little," he said with a smirk, letting go of her hands and bracing an arm on either side of her head, leaning in to her. "Being good has to get boring sometimes."

"I'm not, um, I'm not always good."

"Oh no, I know that," he raised a brow and ground his pelvis into hers. "My sheets still smell like you."

Molly blushed beet red. "You are _really_ something."

"I sure am," he quipped. "Now are you gonna have some fun or not?"

Molly gulped and looked around, before nodding slowly. "Fine. But only if you promise that you won't be loud or anything."

Sherlock smirked, and nodded his agreement before attacking her neck again, causing Molly to moan softly.

"We have to hurry, but it won't take you long, will it Molly? No it won't. I bet you are wet for me already." He dipped his hand into her trousers, pulling aside her knickers to press his finger into her pussy. Sherlock tsked and shook his head in mock disapproval as he found she was more than ready for him. "You should always wear a skirt," he remarked, dropping to his knees to work one shoe off and pull that leg of her trousers down and off, not bothering with the other side.

He pressed his nose into her knickers, inhaling deeply before looking up at Molly from under his lashes and licking his lower lip. "Mmmm you smell delicious. I'd like nothing more than to bring you to a screaming mess with my tongue again, but we'll keep it brief." He winked at her and pulled her knickers down to join her trousers tangled around one foot.

Molly gasped as his clever fingers slipped into her cunt again, pumping in and out as Sherlock stood to cover her mouth with his own. Her hands went to the button of his snug jeans and she made short work of both it and the fly. She pushed at them and his pants, lowering them just far enough to free his hard cock. It was her turn to sink to her knees before him as he leaned over her, holding onto the shelves and moaning as he watched her take him into her mouth. He let her play for only a moment though before handing her a condom he'd fished out of his wallet. She quickly covered him with it and he pulled her up, disregarding her frown of protest.

"Time," he reminded her, grasping her arse tightly. "Arms around my neck," he ordered, and chuckled as Molly stood on tippy-toes to reach all the way around his neck. She gave him an indignant look which he gleefully ignored. "Good, now jump."

He caught her easily as she jumped and wrapped her legs around his narrow hips. He braced her against the shelves, and let go of her with one hand before positioning himself and sliding into her in one long push. He froze inside her and rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily and trying to keep quiet.

Sherlock's hand went back to her arse, his head falling back and a soft groan escaping him as he savored the feel of her. It was intoxicating. He kept his pace unhurried, thrusting deeply into her, before pulling almost fully out and thrusting in again. Molly moaned, tightening her legs around him to pull him in, trying to get him to increase his pace. He obliged her, his hand moving between their bodies to rub at stroke her clit as he thrust into her. Soon enough, Sherlock felt the walls of her pussy tightening around his cock, and dove in to capture her lips as she shuddered and moaned into his mouth. He thrust hard into her a few more times before he also came, his legs almost collapsing as the pleasure rushed through his body. He deliriously smiled at her, thinking that he could get addicted to the feeling of her against him.

Sherlock set her down gently, and pulled his pants and trousers back up before helping Molly with her clothes. He didn't let her go, but pulled her back to him for a searing kiss, pressing her back into the shelf as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She moaned against him, and he pulled back, brushing her long hair from her face. She had a dazed, happy look in her eyes, and it made something in Sherlock's chest tighten. He turned his attention to her neck to hide his reaction to her.

"Hmm," he whispered, tracing a finger over one of the more prominent marks on her pale skin. "I rather like these."

"Marking your territory?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm and he nodded, giving her a roguish grin. She rolled her eyes. "I don't belong to anyone."

"You sure look like mine with my love bites all over you."

She frowned, wrapping her scarf around her neck once again. "Well I'm not yours."

He scowled at her, and crossed his arms. "Well what if you were?" She stared at him, brow furrowed for a moment.

"Sherlock," she began, intending to tell him that he was a good shag and all but she wasn't really looking for anything long-term when he interrupted her by picking her up and spinning her around.

"Perfect," he said gleefully. "That's perfect."

"Whoa wait, what is perfect?" she demanded, hitting him in the shoulder to get him to put her down. Sherlock set her on the floor but didn't let go of her.

"You," he replied, then rolled his eyes when she gave him a perplexed look. "You. You're perfect. You're submissive, I'm controlling, the sex is great. We should do this regularly."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, besides the fact that you know WAY too much about me," she said, poking him in his chest with a single finger accusingly. "I'm not looking for a relationship, we don't even know each other, and I've got my studies, and-" He cut her off.

"Am I good fuck?" he asked.

"Well," she began and he cut her off again.

"Answer me, yes or no. Am. I. A. Good. Fuck?" He enunciated the k at the end, cracking it loudly.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, blushing.

"Well then why don't we just keep doing this? Neither of us have to worry about trying to pull from a bar and possibly getting shitty sex, we can have set times to meet, boundaries, all of that, **and** we don't have to worry about feelings getting in the way. It's just sex."

He looked like a puppy, giving her big eyes and a pouty lip, and against her better judgment, Molly didn't tell him off immediately. "Are you suggesting a Dom-Sub relationship?" she asked slowly, her eyes lighting up with interest.

He looked surprised. "Well no, I was just thinking of casual sex but that," he paused and took in a deep breath, his eyes darkening as Molly chewed her lower lip. "That sounds good too," he choked out, licking his lips in an unconscious mimicry of her actions.

She grinned impishly at him and Sherlock found himself jealous suddenly.

"Have you done this before?"

She shook her head no, looking a bit affronted and the pressure in his chest relieved the slightest bit.

"Nope," she said, popping the p as he had done before. "But the basics can't be _that_ difficult to grasp."

He nodded pensively. "I suppose not. I have to say, that sounds… interesting."

"So what," she replied with a bright smile and shrug of her shoulders. "We just pick a time to meet?"

"I guess so," he said, running a hand through his dark curls. "Is this Saturday evening good for you?"

"Umm yeah I think so," Molly replied after thinking. "I should be free."

"Okay then, seven, my place. Give me your number and I'll text you my address and you can tell me any stipulations you have for our interactions."

"Oh, I don't have a cell phone," she answered quickly, somewhat embarrassed. She knew that a lot of her friends had them, but Molly's family couldn't afford it and she'd learned to get by without.

"Well, we'll have to do something about that," Sherlock murmured, and reached into his back pocket, producing his wallet, from which his fished out a small piece of paper and scribbled down his address with a pen he had tucked away somewhere. "Here, there's my address... I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered under his breath and she smiled.

"Stop your groaning Sherlock, this'll be fun," she said, mocking his earlier words.

She rolled her eyes at him and turned to walk away but he caught her hand and pulled her back, sinking his fingers into her hair and pulling her head back to give her a passionate kiss. There was no way he was letting her leave with the upper hand, especially not if he was going to, what, be her dom? No way in hell he was letting her get away with that.

"Something to think about," he said, winking at her before pushing past her, leaving her standing there alone.


	2. Chapter Two

Molly settled down in front of the desktop computer in the tiny sitting room she shared with Meena. Her roommate's parents had been generous, buying them the flat and most of the furniture within, including the computer. Meena had griped that she hadn't gotten a laptop but Molly was just grateful they had a computer with internet and that she didn't have to go to the library all the time to do her research. Of course, she couldn't to do this kind of research at the library without raising a lot of eyebrows so she was doubly grateful as she made herself comfortable, a cup of tea by her hand.

She was all happy that Meena was out that night, a date with some boy that she'd just met. Molly didn't bother to remember their names because they almost always died out after the first three or so dates. She tried not to think about what that meant.

She sat down and typed in the web address for the search engine Google and sat back, waiting for it to fire up. When it did, she typed in "dom/sub play for beginners".

Three hours later, Molly stared down at her notebook, where page upon page was filled with information on contracts, "play," activities, limits, and everything else under the sun. She felt incredibly overwhelmed, wondering just exactly what she'd so impulsively thrown herself into. She stood, choosing to dump the remains of her ice-cold tea, and took her notebook to her bedroom to reread over everything.

 **YES:**

 **Temperature play (ice yes, wax? maybe)**

 **Sensation play (fur, satin, feathers, leather, etc)**

 **vibrator -Definitely**

 **cuffs/rope**

 **corsets/sexy underwear**

 **love bites - Mmmm...**

 **spanking**

 **blindfolds**

 **oral**

 **public? (semi, like under the table or in the closet or something)**

 **MAYBE:**

 **anal**

 **DP - possibly (if anal goes well)**

 **NO:**

 **gag**

 **breathplay**

 **NO RISKY STUFF LIKE BLOODPLAY OR KNIFEPLAY OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT JUST NO**

 **NO PERMANENT SCARS ETC**

Molly blushed as she read her list. She could just hear her mother screaming "Molly Kathleen Hooper, you little hussy!" in her ear. Her smile dropped though, as the inevitable memory of her father surfaced when she thought of her mum.

She swallowed hard, and stood, dropping the list to her bed. She had a lot to think about and decided to take a nice hot shower to help soothe her tired muscles. She had to admit, she was a bit sore from the vigorous sex too. She smiled again, Sherlock's face flitting across her mind. This time it wasn't only accompanied by thoughts of what they'd done, but with ideas for the future. She stood under the hot spray, grateful that the water was turning her skin pink so she could pretend that she wasn't as red as a beet from the deliciously sinful thoughts running through her head.

* * *

Miles away, Sherlock was doing much the same thing, but his notes were much shorter and consisted of single words with yes and no next to them and occasionally more colorful language attached. He didn't usually use crude language, preferring to stick to the posh manners his mother had instilled in her boys but when it came to good sex, nothing else seemed to hit the spot like a good curse word.

He did have a laptop, state of the art, though the internet connection was rather iffy. He remembered his conversation with Molly the previous day and shook his head. A girl alone in London should really have a cell phone. Not that he was worried about her, no. It was the convenience that attracted him, nothing more. He pulled his phone out and dialed a number into the text box.

 **Extra phone needed. New number. Tomorrow.**

He threw his phone back onto his bed and leaned back in his chair, ruffling his shaggy curls. He made a mental note to get a trim the next day and yawned, glancing at the window. It was late, perhaps three or four in the morning, and he had an eight a.m. class. He frowned. It was Advanced Chemistry. Normally, he hated school but Chemistry held a fascination for him, and he couldn't get enough of it. Sometimes he thought that if he didn't hate people so much, he'd go on and get a graduate degree in the subject.

He shrugged to himself and stood, stretching, only to flop down on his bed with his notebook, looking back over the list again. He was growing more excited about the girl's ( _Molly's_ ) proposition by the moment, and his body was taking notice as well.

He sighed, glancing down at his wayward anatomy, and rolled his eyes.

"Really?" he asked himself. "Again? She's not THAT hot."

His mind conjured up the image of her brown eyes looking up at him as she knelt at his feet and he groaned.

"Fine, fine. She IS that hot."

He unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them, along with his pants, down and off, tossing them onto the floor. He grasped his cock, stroking slowly, teasing himself until he could not longer stand it and came to the thought of Molly tied to his bed while he fucked her mercilessly.

* * *

"I got it," Molly said, making her way towards the door to discover the cause of the insistent knocking. She opened to find a young man standing on the step with a package in hand.

"Miss? A package for you."

Molly's eyes widened as she gazed at the courier outside the door to her and Meena's flat.

"A 'Miss Molly Hooper'?" he clarified, when she didn't move.

"Oh, yes," she replied quickly, startled out of her immobility. "That's me."

"If you'll just sign here please." The blond man shot her a smile and handed her a pen.

"Of course." Molly took the pen and braced the clipboard against the doorframe to write. As she signed, Meena came up behind her and grinned flirtatiously at the man, twirling a lock of her shoulder-length black hair around her finger.

"Thank you," the young man said before he turned and disappeared into the evening crowd on the street. Meena's smile dropped, replaced immediately by an expression of unmistakable curiosity.

"Oooo I love surprises! What is it?!" she said, fairly bouncing around Molly as she shut the door and walked over to the table, holding the package.

"I don't know," Molly said, fondly indulgent of her friend's antics. "I haven't opened it yet."

Meena stopped, and frowned. "You have no idea?"

"Not the faintest." Molly fumbled through the drawers for the scissors and opened the package carefully. She reached in a withdrew two items: a cell phone and a folded note on a page of ruled paper.

"A cell phone?" Meena said, incredulously. "I thought you couldn't afford one. Or you were too stubborn to buy one…"

"Oh hush," Molly said, giggling. "You know that it's unnecessary." She opened the note, remembering Sherlock's mention of her lack of cell phone. Her hands were suddenly shaky as she attempted to read the note before Meena snatched it away from her.

 **Molly,**

 **Your lack of an easy means of communication is intolerable. This phone is now yours for your personal use. You will keep it with you at all times within reason. This is not optional. I have the number and will be in touch.**

 **Sherlock**

"If you say so," Meena continued, oblivious to Molly's brief scan of the note. "But they are awfully convenient. Oh, who's the note from?"

Molly hesitated before replying. "...Sherlock."

"That git from the library sent you the phone?!"

"Ummm, I suppose he did." Molly could feel herself turning bright red and desperately wanted to disappear.

"Are you going to keep it?" Meena asked, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "You are, aren't you?"

 **This is not optional.**

Molly shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "I guess it couldn't hurt."

"Why Molly Kathleen Hooper, look at you! You like him!"

Molly flushed again and her eyes widened. "HUSH!"

* * *

Molly's new phone pinged next to her on the bed and she groaned, lazily rolling over to pick it up.

 **I trust your new phone is to your liking. - SH**

She grinned, biting her lip before replying diplomatically.

 **Yes, thank you. It is very nice. You didn't need to give it to me though. -MH**

 **Ah, but you're wrong there. I need to be able to find my pet when I need her. -SH**

Molly frowned at the endearment, turning it over in her head to see if she liked it or not.

 **Pet? -MH**

There was a long pause before Sherlock answered.

 **Well… yes? Do you not like that name? Research indicates that it's common enough but if you don't like it we can use something else. -SH**

 **No, no, it's okay. I just wasn't expecting it I guess. -MH**

 **We'll have a more detailed discussion of pet names when we have our first session. -SH**

Molly giggled, rolling over to her back, holding her phone above her head.

 **And when will that be? -MH**

It had been four days since the library and Molly had heard nothing from him and had actually wondered if he had decided to back out until the phone had arrived the previous day.

 **Soon. -SH**

 **How soon? -MH**

 **Eager to begin, are we? -SH**

Molly grinned, deciding to play with him a little.

 **Eager to serve, sir. -MH**

 **All in good time, pet. -SH**

Molly pursed her lips, frustrated. She was more than a little turned on already and annoyed that Sherlock seemed so cool.

 **I've been thinking about last weekend a lot. -MH**

 **And? -SH**

She grinned, contemplating her reply.

 **And I really liked it. -MH**

Another long pause, during which Molly glanced at her nightstand multiple times, tempted to reach over and grab her vibrator to alleviate some of the building tension in her body. Finally, Sherlock replied.

 **Good. I liked it too. Though I'm not happy you disappeared while I was sleeping. -SH**

Molly sighed, shaking her head.

 **I wanted to avoid the awkward morning after. -MH**

 **How do you know it would have been awkward? -SH**

Her brow furrowed. Well, of course it would have been awkward. It always was when you went home with a stranger, wasn't it? She'd have to ask Meena.

 **Well, I barely know you. -MH**

 **Yet we've had sex twice now and we're discussing a BDSM relationship. -SH**

She could easily picture the look of smug sarcasm on his handsome face as he typed that reply.

 **True. But at the time, it was just a hook up. -MH**

 **You wound me. -SH**

 _You wound me?_ _What is this, Her Majesty's Royal Court?_

 **You know what I mean. -MH**

 **Yes. But it still would have been nice to fuck you again in the morning. -SH**

 **SHERLOCK! -MH**

 **What? I know you were thinking it too. -SH**

Molly grinned. She **had** been thinking that it would have been nice to go another round with him.

 **Okay, maybe. -MH**

 **Ha. You were. -SH**

In an effort to earn brownie points, though entirely in the truth, Molly replied quickly.

 **Only because you are such a good fuck. -MH**

The reply came almost immediately.

 **Watch it, Miss Hooper. -SH**

 **Or what? -MH**

 **Or you'll find yourself at my mercy quite quickly. -SH**

Molly smirked, quite pleased with his answer.

 **Sounds fun. -MH**

 **We'll see. -SH**

She couldn't sleep until she'd made herself cum twice, screaming Sherlock's name into her pillow.

* * *

Molly stood in front of a door in one of the nicer parts of town. Still close to Uni, but definitely in a ritzier area than Molly's own flat.

 _You've got this. Not like he knows what he's doing either. You can just bluff your way through it. Fake it to make it, Molly._

Molly gave a stiff nod and raised her hand to knock. Just as she swung her hand forward, the door opened and she hit Sherlock square in the face.

"Ow!" he yelped, holding his nose.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Molly stammered, immediately stepping forward to assess the damage. "Let me see your nose."

"No, no, it's fine," Sherlock muttered, rubbing it vigorously. "Just caught me off guard is all."

"Well if you hadn't opened the door just as I was about to knock it wouldn't have happened," Molly said primly.

"I thought you'd waffle around for another twenty seconds or so," Sherlock defended. "I always miss something," he added, more quietly, as if scolding himself.

"Are you going to invite me in then?" Molly asked, beginning to feel uncomfortable standing on the doorstep.

"Oh!" Sherlock moved aside for her to enter the dim flat. "Yes, come on then…"

He closed door behind her and led her around a set of stairs and into the ground floor room she'd only seen in the dark. It was still quite dim, even in the daytime, she noted. The wallpaper was a dark hunter green and the furniture all dark brown leather. The only light came from the large shuttered windows along one wall and the kitchen where an uncovered window sat over the sink.

The furniture was arranged in a circle, with two identical chairs (she flushed remembering what they'd done in one of them,) one next to the small fireplace and the other close to the L-shaped bartop that separated the sitting room from the kitchen. A couch stood opposite them, back to the door. A large wooden writing desk with a laptop on it stood in the corner closest to the door. Every square inch of the room was covered in piles of books, papers and stacks of laundry. The coffee table housed a pile of books with a shiny, new-looking microscope atop it. Molly eyed it enviously.

"Ummm, have a seat," Sherlock mumbled, clearing space on the couch, stacking books precariously on the already high piles on the coffee table and also on the floor. Molly sat primly in a cleaned spot on the couch and crossed her legs, still looking around.

"Tea?" he asked, already heading to the kitchen.

"Please," Molly answered, quite bewildered by the man before her.

There was silence while Sherlock made the tea and Molly continued her examination of the room. Eventually, Sherlock called out from the kitchen.

"Milk? Sugar?"

"Yes please, white and sweet," she replied and he came into the room, handing her a mug of tea and settling into one of the chairs (not the one he'd tied her to, Molly noticed) and proceeding to sip his tea while watching her silently.

"You're reconsidering," she observed coolly, before taking a sip of her own tea.

Sherlock choked. "No I'm not!" he defended quickly. She gave him a significant stare, one brow raised, until he cracked. "Okay maybe… it's just…"

"It's new," she said, and he nodded.

"Have you done this before?" he asked, cocking his head to the side, eyes narrowed.

"I already answered that. No." She shook her head at him and took another sip of tea. "But I don't think it's anything we can't master. And besides," she grinned at him. "You can't convince me that you don't like the idea."

Sherlock swallowed hard. "Of course I like the idea. I just never thought I'd actually be doing it."

"Just relax," Molly said. "We'll take it slowly if you need to."

Sherlock examined her again. "Only child, father deceased-" Molly winced "not on the best of terms with mother, top of your class, graduated secondary a year early…" he trailed off, still eyeing her. Molly shifted uncomfortably. "Victor didn't know you."

"Excuse me?" Molly asked, confused. "Who is Victor?"

"Victor Trevor. The only person, to date, who has be able to put up with my more… unsavory habits, I guess you could say. I'm not always the most socially aware person. He keeps me right. He's also arguably the most popular person at Uni right now."

"Wait, ginger? Tan and tall with green eyes?"

Sherlock did a double take. "Yeah, that's him. Where have you seen him? He didn't know you."

"Meena is one of his conquered. Or he's one of hers…" She laughed. "My roommate is the female version of Victor. Knows everyone and has slept with at least half of them. Nothing wrong with that, of course."

"Of course not." Sherlock took another sip of his tea, then glanced at his watch. "Oh, it's time to go. I ordered the taxi for 6 minutes from now."

"Where are we going?" Molly said, scrambling to put her tea down somewhere moderately safe.

"Come on," he said, standing. "Let's go shopping."

Molly stood too and took the hand he held out to her. She stared at their linked hands for a moment before speaking.

"Shopping? Whatever for?" Her brow furrowed, and she wondered if he was going to make her carry his groceries or something equally distasteful. He gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking and disapproved.

"Supplies."

* * *

"This is a sex shop," Molly said, eyeing the store in front of where they stood.

"Yes, pet," Sherlock replied, adopting a tone of authority. "We'll be needing some equipment and I thought it would be prudent to study your reactions to each item." Sherlock held open the door for her and swept his arm across his body in an exaggerated parody of gentlemanliness, complete with the bow.

Molly tiptoed through the door, glancing about with wide eyes. She had heard of the shop before, of course. It was world-famous and highly expensive. Now that she stood inside, a little of her confidence was fading.

"Oh my god, Sherlock, don't you think this is a bit much? We could just go to a corner shop somewhere…" Molly whispered, clutching his arm as she caught sight of the price of some of the items.

"If we're going to hell we might as well take the taxi," he replied with a wink, happy to have her off balance. Molly gaped at him, her mother's shrill voice once again shouting 'Molly Kathleen Hooper, you little hussy' in her head.

"Oh my god," Molly repeated.

"You keep saying that," Sherlock said, sweeping past her to present his ID to the entry guard as Molly fumbled with her small wallet. "If I were you, I wouldn't be drawing His attention to the things we intend to do to each other."

 _OH MY GOD._

Sherlock stood to the side and waited as Molly showed her ID in turn, then took her elbow to steer her through the first room. He paid no attention to the revealing outfits, educational books, or raunchy DVDs, instead leading her towards the back of the store where a solitary door stood.

"Sherlock…" Molly whispered. "Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Sir," he corrected, brows furrowing as he frowned to himself. "This falls under the guidelines of a session therefore I am your Sir right now. Right?"

Molly frowned as well but corrected herself. "Sir, what are you doing?

"I'm taking you to the BDSM section of the store. This part is merely to satisfy the curiosity of Hen Night parties and give the… more solitary sexual experiences their fix.

"You mean porn watchers."

"Exactly. Or for more theatrical couples. What we're after is in the private section of the store."

"May I look around first?"

Sherlock stopped and stared at her bemused. "Whatever for?"

"For the experience?" Molly asked, hands on hips. "Not like I'm going to be here again anytime soon. Besides, you want to study my reactions, right?"

"I suppose so." Sherlock said slowly, motioning for her to lead on.

Molly smiled, and began to slowly walk through the aisles, her gaze flitting everywhere at once. She stopped to finger the lacy material of a quarter cup bra absent-mindedly, while she examined a leather one next to it. She pursed her lips, trying to decide if she liked the thin chains connecting one cup to the other. In the end, she decided that it wasn't really her taste and moved on.

There were various outfits, ranging from sexy nurse to nun and she was vaguely reminded of the Halloween stores she'd been in with her cousin in America. She didn't see anything that really piqued her interest in that area so she turned back to the aisles and wandered on through the store. Sherlock peeled away from her for a moment and came back with a book on knots and various bondage techniques to use with rope. She smiled to herself and kept walking. Next, she passed pots of latex with tiny pictures of people with painted-on clothes and about a million different kinds of lubrication.

"I never understood, why so many?" Sherlock muttered, arms folded as he examined the teeming shelves.

"They're mostly the same," Molly said. "Some though, are for different uses. This one..." she picked up a tube, "... is for anal use. It's a thicker formula." She replaced that one and picked up another. "This one is flavored. More for people who don't particularly like the taste of oral sex. Though, I would never want to cover up your taste." She winked at him and smothered a smile at the faint blush that covered his cheeks. He coughed and went back to examining the shelf.

"Ah," Sherlock said, picking up yet another tube. "This one warms up to make you tingle." He squinted at the label. "I wonder if it works."

"I think I'm good," Molly said, plucking it from his hand and placing it back on the shelf.

He snatched up the anal lube before following her on down the row. The next aisle was just like the one filled with lube, only with hundreds of types of condoms.

"Same principle," said Molly, motioning to all the colorful packets. "Different uses but mostly the same."

Molly headed on down and rounded the row coming to a stop in an aisle filled with penis shaped everything. Straws, necklaces, hats, pins, and candy, all in neon colors. "Oh, Hen Nights. Wow."

"Mhmmm," Sherlock agreed. She picked up a lei with various brightly colored penises on it and draped it over Sherlock's head, giggling at his grimace of distaste.

"What, not your thing?" she joked, enjoying his discomfort.

"Hardly," he replied, pulling it off and tossing it back into the bin.

Molly grinned and turned to walk away, bumping into a girl about her age who was wide-eyed and attached to a friend who looked about the same age. Her friend was laughing and pointing at the odd objects while the first girl looked about ready to bolt. Molly said her excuses, smothering a smile at the poor girl's obvious discomfort.

"Okay, ready for the real stuff?" Sherlock asked, obviously anxious to get underway.

Molly nodded and he led her towards the back of the store once again. They were made to show their IDs again at the second door, and Sherlock handed the guard a black card. Molly's brow furrowed, but the question was swept from her mind as they entered the BDSM section of the store. The displays were filled with every manner of sexual item she could imagine, with a great many she'd never seen before.

"What we don't find here, we can always order," Sherlock said, placing his hand on the small of her back to move her forward.

"Order?" she replied, dazed at the prices of the items. She'd known that BDSM items could be expensive but she'd never dreamed it was THAT pricey.

"Yes, do keep up. I'll be ordering certain items for use during our sessions. Now, what do you think of this?" Sherlock's authoritative tone was back and Molly was reminded of her earlier pep talk.

 _Fake it to make it._

Her eyes widened as he held up a large suede paddle for her inspection. She gulped and he snickered, putting it back.

"I thought as much. You're not into the pain so much as the control part of things."

Not to be outdone, she picked up a leather riding crop and a flogger, holding each in one hand.

"What about these?" She grinned wickedly at him, offering them to her for inspection.

He took them from her and swung the crop experimentally.

"Nice," he breathed. He held it loosely in his grip and pointed it at Molly. "You want to use this?"

She reached out to touch the riding crop, her fingers skimming along the tip and down the handle towards his hand. She stopped when her fingertips brushed the side of his hand and he took a shaky breath. Molly grinned then and repeated the gesture with the flogger, starting with the long suede strands hanging from the tip and moving upwards, down the handle to his hand.

"You're trying to distract me, Miss Hooper."

"It's working, Mr. Holmes."

He narrowed his eyes at her before putting both implements back on the shelf. He walked a ways down the aisle before stopping to point at something else through the glass of a display case.

"What do you think of this?"

He gestured to a small, clear object and Molly craned her neck to see.

"Wait, what is that?" she said, brow furrowing as she looked at it.

"This, my delicious little pet, is a butt plug." Sherlock grinned. He stood close behind her as she moved towards the glass, rubbing small circles on her hip on top of the clothing.

Molly examined it curiously. It was unlike any she'd seen before. One end was a large, flat circle, which drew inwards rapidly to a much smaller circumference. From there, it widened again before tapering down slowly, creating three bumps, not unlike connected balls. The tip was small, no wider than the tip of Molly's thumb, and the whole object was blown glass, black as night and smooth as silk.

Sherlock leaned in and lowered his voice to a seductive purr as he whispered in her ear.

"Obviously, if you like it, then we'll ask for it at the desk. Or perhaps you'd like a different one? Maybe a metal one? The cool of the steel against the burn of the stretch of your tight little arse hole?"

Molly drew in a shaky breath and nodded, not trusting herself with words. She just knew her face was bright red and that Sherlock was enjoying himself far too much so she turned and walked a few paces to gather her thoughts. She stopped and picked up a long bar with tan leather cuffs attached and turned back to Sherlock, grinning, sure that she could upset his calm.

"How about this?" Molly said, smiling sweetly at Sherlock, offering the item up for his inspection.

"A spreader bar…" Sherlock breathed, his eyes dilating. "You want to use this, little one?"

Molly shivered at the use of the pet name and nodded shyly. "Please, sir."

Sherlock swallowed thickly and turned his full attention to the bar, examining it. After a moment, he straightened and looked back up at Molly.

"This is a nice one," he said. He hefted it in his hand and strolled on down the aisle. Molly glanced down at the display and squeaked.

"Sherlock," she hissed under her breath. "Put that back, that's a hundred pounds."

"And?" he replied, swinging it nonchalantly in a circle. "So what?"

She sputtered. "What do you mean, 'so what?' That's entirely too expensive."

Sherlock turned and gave her a long hard look, his gaze sweeping from her shoes up her slim frame to finally rest on her face. "You aren't used to having nice things, are you?" he said quietly.

She swallowed and turned away. Sherlock stood, silently assessing her body language. She was obviously unwilling to discuss the matter further so he decided to let it be. A long moment passed before he cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Don't make me have to remind you that I am your Sir and whatever I say goes. We're getting it. And the wrist and ankle cuffs that match. Objection?"

She slowly shook her head, eyes trained on the floor. "No, Sir."

"Good." He took a few more steps then stopped in front of rolls upon rolls of colorful tape and looked back, grinning. "You may want to get a basket, this might get out of hand."

Molly's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to tell him to get his own basket, before remembering that she was the sub. She pursed her lips in annoyance, but did as he asked and scooted back to the door of the store and snagged a handbasket, taking it back to Sherlock. She handed it to him and watched as he picked up several rolls of bondage tape in various colors.

"Red, black… what's your favorite color?"

"Pink," Molly replied, feeling a bit childish.

"Pink and… blue." He concluded his perusal of the rolls and handed the basket back to her. "Each color will be for a different type of play. I'll sort them out later and give you a list. And I'll order some rope online. For some reason they never stock rope at these places and there is no way I'm going to a hardware store." Sherlock shuddered with disgust.

"Oh… okay…" Molly rolled her eyes at his obvious distaste for anything remotely to do with manual labor before looking down at the rolls and counting them twice in her head, wondering exactly what type of research Sherlock had done.

"Ah, look. Anal beads."

"What?!" Molly sputtered, wholly unprepared to hear those words come out of Sherlock's mouth.

"Anal. Beads." He hefted the spreader bar to his left hand and picked up a small, thin line of balls attached to each other with an even smaller tube, tossing it to her. "Neat little device consisting of concentric spheres which are inserted into the anus individually, then pulled out during orgasm to create increased pleasure."

"Well hello, infomercial…" Molly muttered under her breath as she walked up beside him to put the object back on the shelf.

"No smart talk, Miss Hooper," Sherlock said, swatting her on the arse, making her jump and squeal with surprise.

"Ah, here we go." Sherlock stepped into the next aisle and picked up a black silicone object, vaguely phallic in shape. "A vibrator."

Molly smiled smugly. "I have one, thank you."

"Good. Keep it. This one is for our play." He stooped down to read the display then shook his head, placing it back on the shelf. "No." He read the descriptions of two more then picked up a third. "Here we go. Remote control. Quite handy. Now, how do you feel about gags?" He looked back at her expectantly as he strode down the aisle and turned a corner. Molly shook her head emphatically.

"No, I can't do gags. Or anything over the head or around the neck really. I'm very claustrophobic."

"Oh," Sherlock said, looking vaguely disappointed as he put a black leather and silicone ball gag back on the shelf. "Okay then."

Molly smiled at his pouting expression and reached behind him. "I wouldn't mind a blindfold though," she said, holding out a tan leather mask to him. It was the same color leather as the spreader bar and cuffs and Molly thought it looked quite fetching all together (not that she'd say that aloud). The expense made her bite her lip, but she knew better now than to stand in Sherlock's way already so she stoically ignored the tags.

"I suppose that will do," he replied, dropping it into the basket she still carried. "No collaring then?" he asked hopefully.

"No, no collaring," Molly said, a little too loudly. She winced and glanced around before continuing in a lower tone. "I can't stand it, Sherlock. I'll have a panic attack if I try to wear something like that around my neck."

He nodded, lips pursed in thought. After a second, he moved on and Molly's brows furrowed as she wondered what he had in mind. Not being able to read him was frustrating, to say the least. Sometimes she thought she was one up on him. Others, she had no idea where the score stood.

"How about these?" He'd moved several aisles down, walking silently, when he stopped and picked up a small item. "Nipple clamps," he added, for clarification.

"I know what they are," Molly said, taking them from him. She examined the small clips in his hand. They were quite delicate, and looked a bit like clips for papers. Curious, Molly attached one to the skin on the back of her hand. "Ooo," she said, feeling the sting. "It definitely pinches."

"Is it too much?" Sherlock asked, eyeing her hand.

She waited a moment before replying, and took one off. It hurt worse after being removed but the sting soon faded. She weighed it in her mind. Nipple clamps weren't exactly appealing to her, but neither were they unappealing. She was rather blah on them but Sherlock seemed eager, so she decided to give them a try. She could always hide them or something if she didn't like them.

"No, I think they will be fine."

"Okay," Sherlock said, making a note of which they wanted, so he could tell the girl at the desk and she could fetch it in the back, along with the spreader bar and cuffs. He turned and eyed a wall where various bondage implements were arranged.

"I don't think we'll bother with a Berkley Horse or Saltire Cross, do you? Unless, of course, you want one." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "That'll be something to explain to Mycroft…" he murmured.

"No, no, I'm fine," Molly stammered, wondering once again exactly what kind of research Sherlock had done. And exactly what his kinks were.

"All right," he said, heading towards the large desk in the back. "Excuse me," he called to one of the girls behind it. "We have some items we'd like to purchase."

Molly paid little attention while he gave his order to the girl and she went to fetch the more expensive things from the back of the store. Her mind was on what would take place when they arrived at Sherlock's flat. By the time he'd finished purchasing the objects (having paid a whopping seven hundred, fifty seven pounds, an amount that made Molly cringe) and had them bagged in discreet packaging, she'd decided that this was the best idea she'd ever had.

* * *

It was getting late by the time Sherlock and Molly arrived back at his flat.

"Are you hungry?" Sherlock asked over his shoulder as he strode into the sitting room, depositing the packages on the floor next to the couch and sat down cross-legged beside them, preparing to dig in. He motioned to the kitchen. "There's take-out menus on the counter. Find one you fancy and order me some as well. My preferences are circled in red."

Molly found the menus and perused them deciding that Thai sounded good. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the menu.

"What color did you say yours were circled in?" she called over to him as he unwrapped the packages, tearing them open like a child on Christmas morning.

"Red," he answered distractedly, as he pulled the spreader bar from its box.

Molly glanced back down at the menu. "Who is the blue?"

"Oh," Sherlock looked up for a brief second then back down at his task. "That's Victor."

Molly bit her lip, a question hovering on her tongue. She chose to ask another. "Over here often, is he?"

Sherlock fully stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. "He won't be a part of what we do, if that's what you are asking. Victor and I are friends, good friends, perhaps even best friends, but nothing more than that and that will never change. I'm quite straight, thank you very much. Even if he isn't."

Molly nodded, her fears alleviated. "Good… that's good." Not that she minded Victor's being bi, as she herself was as well, but she wasn't happy with the prospect of anyone being in on her arrangement with Sherlock. One dom was all she could handle.

She picked up her phone and dialed in the number for the Thai restaurant and placed their order.

"You will have to meet him though," Sherlock said, after a while. "Victor," he clarified when Molly gave him a blank look. "You'll have to meet him."

"I'm sure you'll have to meet Meena too. No keeping her nose out of this." Molly sighed fondly.

"She'll be interested then?" Sherlock asked.

Molly sighed and entered the sitting room, plopping down into one of the leather chairs. "Let's just say that I haven't really brought home many boys."

"Why is that? You're obviously highly intelligent and pleasant enough to talk to. You have a pleasing face and if you'd dress better, then people would be able to see your actual figure instead of a puffed up version of you."

"Thanks," Molly replied sarcastically. "You're so sweet."

"Sweet is something I'll probably never be," Sherlock said. "I tell the truth as I see it."

"Sometimes the truth isn't the right thing to say," Molly said quietly.

"Of course it is. Would you rather I lie to you?"

"Sherlock." Molly pursed her lips. "Sometimes if you can't say something nice, it's better to say nothing at all."

"Nonsense," Sherlock began, but he was cut off by the doorbell. He sprang up, snatching up the money from the coffee table and running out of the room, leaving Molly to shake her head ruefully.

He returned after a moment with a large, aromatic bag.

"That was really fast," Molly said, disbelief written on her face. She checked her watch. "That was only seventeen minutes."

"The restaurant is right down the street and they owe me a favor," Sherlock said, plopping down onto the floor next to the coffee table and unloading takeout cartons onto the coffee table in the space Molly had cleared.

"Why?" she asked, getting up to go to the kitchen and search for utensils.

"Helped them hang some shelves," he called after her.

She smiled and shook her head slightly, something telling her that he hadn't literally hung shelves for the restaurant. She wouldn't bother him about it though. If he wasn't telling her the truth, then he must not want her to know and Molly was okay with that. She knew that she'd have things that she wouldn't want him to know in the future and she hoped he would respect that like she respected him.

"Here you go," she said, coming back into the sitting room and handing him a plastic fork.

He took it, and they dug into their food in silence. Sherlock finished first, as Molly was a slow eater, and sat watching her expectantly.

"I can't eat with you watching me," she said, pointing her fork at him. "Do something."

He reached over and picked up the ankle cuffs, absent-mindedly twirling them on one finger.

"So, play names. I trust that 'Sir' is acceptable for my name?" he said, his tone business-like. He pulled a notepad from under a stack of books. The paper on top was filled with his distinctive scrawl. He glanced down at it.

Molly nodded, finishing the last bite of her food. She set the empty container down on the coffee table and leaned back into her chair, crossing her legs.

"I'll have several names for you, I think. 'Pet', certainly. 'Little one', perhaps." He paused and suddenly became very interested in the notepad, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "How do you feel about 'slut' or 'whore'?"

Molly thought for a moment. "I think as long as it's in the context of a scene, I'll be okay with those. Don't ever call me a cunt or a bitch though. I'll punch you."

"My mother raised me better than that," Sherlock said, defensively.

"Okay, I was just warning you," Molly replied, resisting the urge to chuckle at his offended expression.

"All right. I drew up a contract, following a format I found online. See if this is acceptable to you." He cleared his throat and began to read aloud.

 **The sub's safeword shall be 'Arsenic'. When the safeword is used, all play must immediately stop until the sub expresses her reasons for using the word. The dom must then correct the condition or, if necessary, stop play altogether.**

 **No play under the influence of any drugs other than alcohol. Only a moderate amount of alcohol can be consumed before play.**

 **No sex of any kind with anyone else unless expressly given permission by the (sub/dom) when they are completely sober.**

 **Protection must be used during penetrative sex. Sub is responsible for oral birth control.**

 **The dom shall provide clothing/other items suitable for the sub when necessary. The dom will also provide any travel costs for the sub.**

 **The dom/sub shall not interfere with studies. No demands shall be met when the dom/sub is in class or studying for exams.**

 **The sub will be available to the dom from _ to _ on _, _, and from _ to _ on _.**

 **The sub will adhere to guidelines set by the dom regarding personal hygiene and conduct.**

 **The dom may punish the sub when he sees fit, but must not do so without reason. The sub may ask for an explanation at any time.**

 **The hard limits will be avoided at all times. No exceptions.**

Here, Sherlock paused and picked up a pen.

"I left the times blank since we still have to discuss that. You'll have to tell me your hard limits."

Molly pursed her lips in thought. "Okay, nothing impeding my breathing, so no gags or anything like that. And no collars or ropes around my neck. I can't stand that. Ummm, oh, nothing permanent, so no tattoos or piercings or anything like that."

Sherlock wrote as she talked, filling in the list of hard limits.

"What about public scenes?" she asked, looking down at him.

"What do you mean public?" Sherlock asked, curiously.

"Like under the table or something. No one would see but it would happen in a public place," Molly clarified.

Sherlock nodded. "I'm okay with that."

"Okay so semi-public," Molly said, reclining in her chair.

Sherlock jotted that farther down on the paper. "What about other people?" he asked.

Molly grinned. "I guess it depends."

"So you **would** consider it?" Sherlock said, the disbelief in his voice stirring Molly to defiance.

"Yes, with the right person, I would consider it. I'm bi, you know. I'm attracted to both girls and guys."

Sherlock stared at her for a moment before writing something at the bottom of the paper.

"Okay then. Anything else?" Sherlock asked, and Molly thought.

"Hmmm, I don't like the paddle. So I guess that should be one." She wrinkled her nose. "Ewww and no bloodplay, in fact, no knifeplay."

"I see someone else did their research," Sherlock said, with a chuckle. "Okay here's what we have."

 **List of hard limits: gagging, collaring, permanent marking of the body, public scenarios, paddling, knifeplay, bloodplay etc**

He waited for her approving nod, then continued.

 **Soft limits will be discussed before beginning a scene to ensure understanding on the part of both the dom and the sub.**

"Soft limits?" he asked expectantly.

"Anal," Molly said immediately. Sherlock raised and brow and she flushed and bit her lip. "I've just, I've never done it so we need to go slow."

"Noted," Sherlock said, writing it down.

"Can we make breathplay a soft limit?" he asked, glancing up at her. "It's not really messing with your breathing, it's cutting off the bloodflow to make your orgasm more intense."

Molly swallowed. "We can try it, I guess. If I don't like it, we can make it a hard limit."

"And I'll warn you before I do it," Sherlock said. "Okay, listen to this."

 **List of soft limits: anal, bringing in a third party, breathplay**

"Can you think of anything else?" Sherlock asked, looking up at her expectantly.

"No… I don't think so…" Molly 's brow furrowed in the thought. "Oh! Periods," she said suddenly, just as Sherlock was about to set the paper down. "No sex when I'm on my period."

"Why not?" Sherlock questioned. "Doesn't bother me."

Molly blushed and glanced down at her lap uncomfortably. "Umm well, they kinda ick me out."

Sherlock blinked. "You're grossed out by your own period?"

"Yes. They are nasty and gross and no. No sex when I'm on it," said Molly, speaking quickly.

"Okayyyyy…" Sherlock said slowly. "No vaginal sex when you're on your period."

"No, no penetrative sex. Not even anal."

Sherlock looked vaguely disappointed but nodded his head and added it to the list of hard limits.

"Okay, this looks good," he said, handing Molly the paper to look over. She glanced at it and nodded, handing it back to him.

"So shall we get started?" Molly said, bouncing a little in her seat.

Sherlock's eyes widened. He popped up from his spot on the floor and edged away from her. "Ummm no I need to study for an exam…"

Molly frowned and stood also. "It's Friday evening," she said, arms crossed.

"It's a Saturday exam?" he replied, in a squeaky voice.

Molly raised a brow. "You're lying."

Sherlock sighed. "Okay, I don't have an exam. Just give me time to process all of this, okay?"

They stared at each other silently for a moment, before Molly also sighed.

"Are you reconsidering? Because…" she gestured to the various purchases scattered around the sitting room. "If you are, then buying all of this was kinda foolish."

"No, no!" Sherlock said quickly. Just… I need time to think about everything. And besides, I don't have a scene planned yet. Don't wanna half-arse it."

Molly pursed her lips, examining him, before nodding. "Okay, fine. We'll start next time."

Sherlock smiled and sagged against the wall in relief. "Thank you."

"I have to listen to my dom," Molly answered, resigned.

"Yup," Sherlock replied, grinning.

"I really should go then," she said, looking towards the window. "It's getting late."

Sherlock went to the bar and picked up some money and crossed the room to hand it to Molly.

"Take a cab," he said, looking a little bit sheepish. "I'd feel better if you didn't take the underground this late."

Molly hopped up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Sherlock."

They both froze for a moment. Molly stared wide-eyed at Sherlock, who stared back before recovering and grinning widely at her. "Come on, I'll catch you one."

Molly snatched up her bag and followed him out, still going over the spontaneous moment of affection in her mind. He hailed the first cab that came by and Molly marveled at his ease. She went to get in, but Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her back, pressing a heated kiss to her lips.

"Nah uh," she admonished after he finally let her go. "This isn't playtime."

"It's not forbidden in the contract to kiss outside of playtime," he retorted, kissing her again.

She escaped his grasp. "Well it should be!" she said, before jumping in the cab, leaving Sherlock to stand on the sidewalk and stare after her as the cab pulled into traffic.


	3. Chapter Three

**What are you wearing? - SH**

The text came as Molly lounged in the bath tub. She dried her hands and picked up the phone, squinting at it. After a moment of fumbling, she figured out how to work the fuzzy camera, and took a photo of her toes sticking up above the bubbles at the other end of the tub. She sent it with a satisfied smile before shooting off another text.

 **Not a damn thing. -MH**

There was a long pause before the phone pinged again.

 **Get out of the bath. - SH**

Seconds later, another came in.

 **But don't get dressed. -SH**

Molly raised a brow, and debated a moment before a third text came in.

 **Do it, little one. - SH**

Molly grinned and got out of the bath, toweling off before wrapping the towel around her and scurrying into her room.

 **Okay. Done. I'm in a towel in my room. - MH**

 **Take the towel off and lie on the bed, legs spread, feet together. - SH**

Molly swallowed hard and lay the towel over her chair, lying down on the bed in the position Sherlock had indicated.

 **What now? - MH**

There was long pause before the next text came.

 **I want you to touch yourself. I want you to imagine my hands on you. Pinching those sweet little nipples, rubbing on your swollen clit, dipping into your wet pussy. -SH**

 **Imagine my tongue on you, licking and sucking that sweet cunt. You taste so good, pet. Taste yourself. - SH**

Molly flushed hotly, her hands drifting down, one to pinch and pull at one sensitive nipple, the other to run two fingers through her wet slit. She brought her hand up to her face and eyed it before taking a tentative lick. It was both dry and wet at the same time, and had a tart taste to it. She sucked her fingers into her mouth and licked them clean.

 **Do you like it, pet? Do you like the way you taste? I do. -SH**

 **Yes, it's… different. But good. -MH**

 **Good. Now get your vibrator. -SH**

Molly reached over to her nightstand and drew out the long, thin device meant to be able to stimulate either the clit or the g-spot.

 **Got it. -MH**

 **Now I want you to play with that clit, little one. I want you to imagine my hands down there. -SH**

 **I want you to finger yourself with the other hand. Be rough. I want you to cum hard all over your fingers. -SH**

Molly gasped and eagerly obeyed, fucking herself with her fingers, pressing the vibrator against her clit. She rubbed in time to her fingers and quickly was on the edge of an epic orgasm.

"God, fuck, Sherlock!" she moaned out as she came. She lay on the bed, panting in the aftermath, when a knock sounded at her door.

"Molly, you okay? I thought I heard you shout," Meena said through the door.

Molly scrambled to cover herself. "Yeah, fine, just talking to myself."

"Oh, okay," Meena replied, and Molly heard her footsteps walk away.

 **Meena nearly caught me because I said your name too loud. -MH**

 **That's what I like to hear. -SH**

Molly dropped the phone next to her and lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as her breathing slowed and she drifted off to sleep, still naked.

* * *

After a discussion of schedules, it was determined that the first session would be on that following Wednesday evening, since Sherlock didn't have class on Thursday and Molly's was an afternoon course. Of course, the venue was Sherlock's flat. Meena wouldn't have appreciated walking in on a compromising position.

Molly knocked on Sherlock's door and it promptly flew open, and Sherlock dragged her inside. He stripped her of her jacket, and inspected her from all sides.

"Clothes off," he said, turning to walk into the sitting room. "Everything except for your bra and knickers," he clarified.

Molly stared after him for a moment in shock.

 _Well, hello to you too._

Sherlock clapped from the sitting room and Molly jumped, quickly stripping and piling her clothes on the chair in the foyer. She approached the sitting room somewhat timidly, wondering just what Sherlock had in store for the session. He was seated in the chair they'd defiled the first night.

"From now on, when we have playtime, you'll strip to your underclothes as soon as you come through the door and you'll come kneel by my chair." He indicated a spot on the floor, close to the fireplace and opposite the coffee table. Molly did as he directed and knelt in the spot. Sherlock calmly picked up a cup of tea and began to drink it, without another word.

After several minutes, Molly shifted uncomfortably.

"Sir?" she asked and Sherlock looked over at her.

"Yes, pet?"

"The floor is really hard."

He blinked at her for a second before jumping up and hurrying out of the room. He came back with a pillow from his bed.

"Here," he said, helping her stand. "We'll keep this here for you to kneel on. But that's enough of that. Are you ready to begin?"

Molly nodded.

"Play time will end when I use your name. Until then I will call you only by pet names, understood?"

Molly nodded and Sherlock took her hand to lead her to his room. He paused at the door and looked back at her.

"Lie there, on the bed, on the far side."

His bed was stripped of his normal sheets, and was dressed in a plain white sheet that appeared to be cotton. There were no pillows. When Molly sat down she could feel something underneath the sheet and looked up at Sherlock questioningly.

"Mattress protector. It's waterproof," he said. She nodded and lay down.

Next to the bed, on the floor, were several covered containers. Sherlock sat on the near side of the bed and picked up the wrist cuffs from his nightstand.

"I'm going to cuff you, all right?"

Molly nodded and Sherlock cuffed one hand then ran the other through the metal headboard of the bed before cuffing the other hand. He pulled out the spreader bar from under the bed and cuffed both her ankles to it.

"Everything feel okay?" he asked. "Anything pinch?"

Molly shook her head and Sherlock grinned. He picked the blindfold up and she lifted her head. He tied it securely but not tightly and she laid her head back down on the mattress.

Sherlock was a mass of barely-leashed enthusiasm. He'd spent many hours carefully planning his every move, and with Molly laid out on the bed, he felt an intoxicating sense of power.

"I thought we'd begin with an exploration of sorts," Sherlock said, conversationally as he picked up one of the containers and pulled off the cloth that covered it. First, he pulled out a feather.

"For instance," he said, running the feather up her bare side, eliciting a giggle and squirm. "Are you ticklish?"

Molly shook her head and he grinned, shifting to touch the feather to the underside of her bare feet, dodging when she pulled her legs up to plant her feet on the bed.

"I think you are."

He put the feather back and picked up the crop from under the bed. He did the same thing and ran it along her side. She jumped, but settled back down.

Next, he started with her toes and ran it up the length of her body to her pussy, pressing the leather into the crotch of her knickers. She moaned slightly and he smiled. Reaching over, Sherlock pulled down the cups of her bra to below her breasts and pinched the nipples lightly before trailing the crop up her torso to rub gentle circles around them.

He put the crop down and picked up a needle. He paused before carefully laying a hand on her side to keep her from jumping.

"Don't move," he warned.

He then ran the needle along her stomach, leaving white trails that soon turned to pink scratches, not deep enough to draw blood, or even to hurt. She flinched as he did it, but didn't use her safeword. He put the needle back and pulled out a satin cloth. He ran it over the red lines left by the needle and soothed them.

Molly was relaxing, becoming loose and pliant under his hands as he touched her. The next thing Sherlock did was to grab the other container and pull out a candle and a tiny cooler with ice. He lit the candle with a lighter and carefully held it over Molly's torso. She jumped as the first drop of wax hit her and yelped in surprise.

"What the hell?!" she exclaimed and Sherlock smirked, having expected a similar reaction. He pulled lightly on her blindfold and it fell away, allowing him to look into her eyes.

"Oh hush," he replied. "It's not going to hurt you. Just calm down. Unless you want to safeword…"

Molly was quiet for a moment, during which Sherlock let the wax drip onto his own hand.

"No, I'm okay," she said and he let another drop hit her. She tensed, but didn't cry out so he continued, letting drops fall on her stomach and breasts. The skin reddened as the wax hardened on her body.

Molly's eyes drifted closed as her body because accustomed to the heat of the wax. Her head was light and her muscles loose and she vaguely wondered what was happening to her through the fog of what she assumed was subspace. She'd read about it, about how the sub would enter that state of mind where their dom is the center of their universe and everything boils down to the sensations in their body and the euphoria in their mind. She opened her eyes, blinking owlishly in the light, her body feeling both light and heavy at the same time. She watched as Sherlock smiled down at her and dreamily returned it.

Sherlock saw the sharpness die out in Molly's eyes, replaced by an almost sleepy expression. He'd also read about subspace, and was beyond thrilled that he was able to induce it in Molly. He, on the other hand, was clear and focused, his thoughts precise and fixed on Molly, making sure that he wasn't hurting her in her vulnerable state. Every few drops of wax, he would drop one on his own arm, to make sure that it wasn't too hot for her. Everything seemed to slow down and the world revolved around himself, and Molly, and the incredible bond that they shared at that exact moment.

Sherlock wasn't sure what he was feeling exactly, only that his heart hurt and he was strangely okay with that.

He blew the candle out and opened the cooler. Picking up a small piece of ice, he popped it in his mouth for a second, before taking it in hand. Molly jumped as the ice hit her skin, but didn't say a word as Sherlock trailed the sliver of ice along the lines of wax on her skin. She was shaking though, and Sherlock saw it. He rubbed the ice on each of her nipples in turn, watching in fascination as they pebbled from the cold. Finally, he took the ice and put it directly on the crotch of her knickers, on the material.

Molly's eyes opened instantly and she yelped, scrambling to get away from the ice. She couldn't move very far. Sherlock left it on for only a moment, before he pulled it off and set the container aside. He uncuffed her ankles quickly, rubbing the skin to make sure there would be no marks, and moved to a position between her legs. He contemplated fucking her, as he was almost painfully aroused, but decided to stick with his original plan. Without any warning, he ducked his head and latched onto her clit with his mouth, sucking at the cold spot through her knickers.

Molly shrieked and pulled at her restraints. Sherlock hooked an arm around her thigh and held her still, his mouth never leaving her clit. He used his free hand to push aside her knickers, moving his attentions back to her clit as he slipped two fingers into her. Less than a minute later, Molly came, thrashing around and yelling expletives.

He sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth. Moving to her head, Sherlock uncuffed her, and rubbed her wrists. She blinked owlishly at him, exhausted, and he grinned down at her. She closed her eyes again, tears forming in them, and he lay down next to her, wrapping his arms around her to hold her as she recovered.

They lay there for a long time, long after Molly had come out of subspace, both thinking.

"Hungry?" Sherlock asked after a while, trying, and failing, to be nonchalant about it.

"Oh god, yes," Molly replied. "I'm famished and it's already so late."

"Well, get dressed and I'll take you out," he said, hopping up to redress.

They dressed in silence, both blushing when they caught each other's eyes, Sherlock more than Molly. When they were ready, Sherlock led Molly out of the flat and caught them a cab, giving directions. They pulled up in front of a small chinese place near the university, one that Molly loved.

"Ooo, yes! Just what I need after that," she said, scurrying into the restaurant. Sherlock grinned and followed. Molly began examining the menu written above the counter but was interrupted by Sherlock pulling on her.

"Come on," Sherlock said, grabbing Molly's hand to pull her away. "I decided I want Italian instead." He attempted to wrestle her through the door but before he could get the protesting Molly out of the restaurant, the table closest to them erupted in laughter. Sherlock froze as a voice rang out.

"Ah, the great Sherlock Holmes," a boy said, grinning. "Come to show us more of your tricks?"

There was a collective groan from the boys at the table, along with a twitter of nervous laughter from some of the girls. Molly eyed them all suspiciously. They were a popular crowd, one that she'd seen before as Meena had dated one of the boys there. He'd cheated on her and Meena had cried for weeks. Molly frowned.

"Ah now boys," the ringleader said. "Don't be like that. It's not his fault he doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. If you didn't want your girlfriend knowing you were cheating on her you shouldn't have done it, Swanson."

"Cheated on her with Miss Blonde Ambition right there, in fact," Sherlock said to Molly. The table fell silent, as the two perpetrators stared at each other in horror and Molly tried to suppress a laugh. "Apparently no one knew that…" Sherlock said after a moment. The girl burst into tears and ran from the table, with a friend in hot pursuit.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked of Molly, who shook her head.

"Not good, no," she replied.

A slow clap got their attention. The ringleader was clapping exaggeratedly, a smirk on his face.

"And that right there is why you won't ever get laid," he said.

Sherlock took a step back as the boys roared with laughter.

"Come now, Sherlock," the boy pressed. "Do your trick again. Which one of us got an STD from our one-night stand last weekend?"

Molly pushed around Sherlock and stood in front of speaker, hands on her hips.

"I bet it's you, you nasty little boy," she shouted, surprising him. He stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed, before side-eyeing his group and recovering himself. He winked at her, brown eyes twinkling. Molly distractedly thought he might be handsome if it wasn't for the cocky set of his lips.

"Well aren't you a feisty one," he said. "Pretty though. Come on sweets, you don't wanna hang out with Horrible Holmes, do ya? Come sit here with us." He patted the vacant seat next to him, giving a confident wink to his friends.

* * *

"You didn't have to spit in his face."

"He deserved it."

"You got us kicked out."

Sherlock and Molly both dissolved into giggles, leaning on each other to keep their balance as they walked arm in arm down the sidewalk back towards Sherlock's flat.

"You didn't have to make that poor girl cry though," Molly remarked after a moment. "That wasn't very nice."

"I'm not a very nice person, Molly. I care about very few people and I'm not very good with those. Social cues aren't something I ever picked up on well." Sherlock shrugged. "All I did was observe."

Molly pursed her lips in thought. "My mother used to say that if you couldn't say something nice, sometimes it was better to say nothing at all."

Sherlock snorted. "I'll try to remember that so in the future you won't have to get us kicked out of any more restaurants."

They laughed again, lungs aching for breath.

"I guess dates aren't our thing."

Molly stopped and gaped at Sherlock.

"That was a date?" she asked quietly, and Sherlock winced.

"No, well, I mean, not a _date_ date. We aren't dating. We're, you know. It was just dinner because I have to take care of my sub." He fell silent.

Molly nodded her head slowly. "Okay."

They continued on towards the flat, not touching this time, in a much more sober atmosphere.

"Who was that anyway?"

"Old study partner. I thought he was my friend but he was apparently just using me to get good grades. Chemistry IS my best subject and he's miserable at it. His name is Sebastian Wilkes."

"What a horrible person."

Sherlock was silent. Molly pulled on his arm to stop him and stood in front of him.

"He's wrong, Sherlock. You are wonderfully gifted. He's just jealous of you and afraid of your ability to see all the terrible things he does. He's a bad person and you deserve better for a friend."

They stared silently at each other a long moment before Sherlock nodded curtly and took Molly's arm in his stiff one, setting out once again for the flat.

They rounded a corner and ran into a cordoned off area next to a small park. There were police cars everywhere, flashing lights and floodlights, and multitudes of both policemen and reporters. Sherlock stood watching the scene for a moment before speaking in a low voice to Molly.

"Serial killer," he whispered. "Must be that the murders from the papers the past couple of weeks are linked."

"How do you know?" Molly asked, craning her neck to see.

"How the investigation is set up. They already know what the body looks like, they're searching around it more than on it." He gestured to the large area sectioned off. "Come on, let's go see."

He grabbed Molly's hand and ducked under the tape, making for the epicenter of the scene, only to be stopped not far inside the perimeter.

"What are you doing here, this area is for authorized personnel only."

A tall, thin, haggard-looking DI frowned at them, cigarette in hand. He took a long draw and Sherlock's mouth watered. He shook himself slightly just as Molly reached in and pinched his side, making him squeal slightly in surprise and pain. He frowned down at her before looking back up at the tired DI.

"This is the latest of the victims, is it not?" he asked, gesturing to the crime scene in front of the threesome.

The DI lowered his cigarette slowly, examining Sherlock with narrowed eyes. "Excuse me?"

"There's more than one obviously, you can tell by the mere presence here. Serial killer then? Ooo I love those." Molly pinched him again and he jumped, rubbing the sore spot. "Ouch!"

"Sherlock…." Molly began, but he cut her off.

"Oh right, not good." He shook his head then looked back up at the DI. "Anyway, I'm here to solve your crime for you."

"You're here to…" The man stared at Sherlock for half a second before breaking out into a hearty laugh, his smoker's throat barking in mirth. "You're just a kid. Go home and study, exams are coming up."

Sherlock stiffened, frowning at the still laughing man. "With you lot on the case there'll be another victim at the very least." The DI stopped laughing and straightened up, opening his mouth, but Sherlock continued before the man could speak. "Give me five minutes on the scene and I swear to you, I'll solve this."

"Absolutely not," the DI replied quickly.

Molly began pulling on Sherlock's arm, eyeing the DI warily. "Sherlock, let's go."

"Officer Mulligan," the man called out. "Come get these kids out of my hair."

"Five minutes!" Sherlock argued, taking a step farther into the taped off area.

"OUT!" the DI bellowed, as a burly officer appeared and began herding them away.

"Sherlock, come on." Molly pulled at his arm again, attempting to lead him from the scene.

"You're making a mistake," Sherlock called at the DI who had begun walking away from them. "There will be more victims!"

The man stopped in his tracks and strode back to them, crowding into Sherlock's personal space and lowering his voice menacingly.

"Listen, son. You get out of here, stop making threats, and don't come back or I'll have no other choice than to arrest you on suspicion of involvement."

"Threats?!" Sherlock and Molly both said, incredulously.

"Yes, threats. Now get out of my sight. I have enough to deal with here." He turned and disappeared, leaving the burly officer, Mulligan, to escort them from the scene, depositing them on the sidewalk a good ways from the action.

"Why won't they listen to me?" Sherlock rounded on Molly, frustrated. He paced angrily around her as she merely stood and watched him go by.

"Because they don't have a reason to, Sherlock," she replied simply. "They don't know how brilliant you are."

"Yes but if they'd just listen…" he began, but she shook her head.

"They aren't going to." She shrugged and smiled drily. "Just let it go."

"Absolutely not," Sherlock said, clapping his hands together. "Come on, Molly." He turned back towards the scene and took a few steps. Molly scampered to catch up with him and grabbed his arm.

"Wait, what? Where are we going?"

"We are going to get the case file and prove to them that I can solve this." Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he examined the scene, noting positions of officers and the most likely vehicles to find the files in.

"Sherlock, you can't go back in there," Molly said, breathlessly pulling on his hand to lead him away.

"Nonsense," he said, grinning as he slipped under the police tape. "We just can't get caught."

"WE?!" She squeaked. "Oh my god."

"Shhh. Follow me."

He led her along the back of one car and they sprinted across to another, hiding from a passing officer until the coast was once again clear. Sherlock opened the passenger door and grabbed a file folder from the front seat, closing the door again with a quiet click.

"Got it, let's go," he whispered, and they took off back the way they came.

"Hah! Told you I'd get it!" he said triumphantly when they got back to the edge of the crime scene. "Let's get back to the flat so I can look through these."

"Sherlock," Molly groaned. "It's nearly three in the morning. I do need sleep eventually. I'm a mere mortal, remember?"

"So sleep in my bed," he said with a shrug. "I'll be up anyway."

"Ugh, fine." She said, grumpily following him down the sidewalk.

"Coffee first though," Sherlock said, grinning.

"Ughhhhhhhh…"

* * *

"We could have another session tomorrow," Sherlock said, as he watched Molly hunt through cabinets for two coffee mugs. "Since you're staying anyway." He leaned against the bar, hands on the bartop, looking from the sitting room into the kitchen.

"Nope," Molly replied. "I've got a lecture tomorrow afternoon and I'm going out with my friends at night."

"Oh really?" Sherlock said, pushing away from the bar slightly. He rounded it and approached her slowly.

"Yes, really," she replied, still digging through cabinets looking for the mugs. "You don't control me outside of our sessions."

Sherlock reached her and pressed his front against her back, reaching above her in the cabinet to grab the mugs.

"All right," he said, moving back from her. Molly was breathing harder, the proximity of Sherlock affecting her. "Coffee. Black, two sugars."

He moved back to the sitting room and picked up the file he'd nicked from the police car. He spread the pages out on the floor and stood on the coffee table to look at them. Molly came in a few minutes later, bearing coffee. She too stood looking down at the pictures.

"You know," Molly said, sipping her coffee. "This would be easier to see if you pinned all the papers to the wall somewhere."

"A case wall," Sherlock said, setting down his coffee and cupping Molly's face in his hands. He planted a big kiss on her lips before dashing off. "You are brilliant," he called from his room.

Seconds later, he came running back with a case of pushpins and began tacking the pictures to the empty wall behind the couch, just to one side of the desk. When he'd gotten all the pictures up, he stepped back and both he and Molly gazed at them.

"Okay, I got nothing," Molly said after a while. "I'm going to bed."

"Oh, there's an extra key on the counter. I don't want to have to get up and let you in every time you come."

Molly paused and looked at Sherlock, who didn't turn from his scrutiny of the wall.

"Doesn't mean anything," he muttered.

She debated for a moment, before picking it up from the bartop.

"Got it," she said, depositing it into her bag before headed out of the room, intent on getting at least some rest before her class the next day.

Sherlock absentmindedly waved goodbye to her and continued staring at the wall.

* * *

Three days later, Molly let herself into Sherlock's flat for their scheduled session. She assumed that he just didn't want to get up and answer the door when she knocked, so she used her key.

Everything was quiet, so she stripped and went to her position by the chair. Ten minutes passed, and no Sherlock appeared. Molly got to her feet and crept to his room. No one there. She stood in the hall, debating on whether to stay or not. Finally, she decided to stay and to shower, having been working in the lab for extra credits all day. She loved it, but the smell of chemicals followed her and she wanted to be rid of it before her session with Sherlock.

She put her hair up in a messy bun and turned on the shower before stripping off her knickers and bra. She set them on the toilet seat and stepped into the hot spray, moaning in delight as it hit her sore muscles. She hesitated before picking up the bottle of shampoo that was in the shower with her. She examined the label, rolling her eyes at the cost of it.

It was no wonder he'd been so nonchalant about the cost of the supplies they'd bought at the sex shop. It was obvious from his designer clothes and toiletries that Sherlock was from money. Even just taking into account his superior attitude and condescending demeanor, it was easy to tell he'd been raised posh.

She shrugged and poured some of the shampoo in her hand, lathering it into her long brown hair. She'd have to remember to bring a bottle of her own (drugstore brand) shampoo and leave it in his flat, just in case she had to shower there again. She finished showering and turned off the water, groping about outside for a towel. She found one and dried off in the shower, wrapping the towel around her and tucking it in as she climbed out.

She found another towel in the small linen closet next to the shower and dried her hair, grimacing in distaste when she looked at the mirror. Molly looked around for a brush and found only a comb, which would easily break in her tangled hair. She remembered her bag, still in the entryway of the flat and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she'd find one within. Wrapping the towel more securely around her, Molly stepped out of the bathroom and went in search of the brush.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?"

Sherlock's low baritone rang out through the room and Molly froze, one foot in front of the other. She turned slowly to see him seated in his chair, one brow raised as he appraised her appearance. He looked down to the pillow next to his feet pointedly then back to at her. Molly hesitated only a second before scurrying over to kneel on it.

"Good girl," he praised, then frowned. "You've been very naughty, not waiting for your master like a proper pet. I came in, expecting to be greeted by my sweet little girl, only to find an empty room." He shook his head with mock regret. "I'm afraid I'll have to punish you for not following my instructions."

"But I just wanted-" Molly began, but a sharp look from Sherlock made her subside into a tense silence, biting her lip anxiously. She felt that familiar sensation in her stomach that she felt when someone was upset with her. A mixture of nausea and fear that her therapist insisted was borne from her treatment at the hands of her mother. She swallowed nervously, not wanting to appear weak in front of Sherlock.

"I don't want your excuses," Sherlock said. "I don't care that you've been working in the lab all day or that you smell like chemicals.

"How did you-?" she began again, but was cut off abruptly.

"SILENCE!" Sherlock roared, and Molly flinched, closing in on herself, scooting ever so slightly away from him. She hated to be yelled at and almost got to her feet to leave right then. If it hadn't been during play time, she would have.

Sherlock stood and circled around behind her slowly. "Now, my pretty little thing," he crooned. "What shall I do with you?"

He was quiet for a long moment and Molly tensed, unable to see him to read his expression.

"Get up," he said finally, and Molly scrambled to her feet. Sherlock steadied her as she wobbled a bit, then took her by the arm and led her to the bar. On the bartop stood two shoe boxes, both taped around the lid. There was a small-ish hole (which she realized was just large enough for her hand) cut in the top of both boxes.

"I wasn't planning on introducing these so early in our… arrangement." He stood considering, brow furrowed, one full lip held tightly between his teeth. Finally, he nodded to himself. "These are your reward and punishment boxes," Sherlock said, motioning to them. "I've placed folded cards with various rewards in the box on the left and punishments in the box on the right. Choose one from the right box now to be the punishment for your disobedience."

Molly swallowed hard and slowly approached the boxes, eyeing them warily. She reached through the small opening of the punishment box and drew out a card, silently offering it to Sherlock.

"No, read it to me," he said, grinning wickedly. Molly swallowed again and opened the card.

"Ten lashes with my choice of any tool except Sherlock's hand," she read aloud.

Sherlock's smile grew. "So what'll it be, pet?" he crooned. "The crop? The flogger?"

Molly hesitated for a moment. "The crop, I guess. Sir."

Sherlock sprinted out of the room, returning a moment later with the crop and the blindfold. He seated himself on the couch and motioned for Molly to join him, which she reluctantly did.

"Now, I'm going to warm you up with my hand," Sherlock said, pulling Molly to lie over his lap, her bottom aligned with his right hand. He tied the blindfold securely over her eyes and braced his elbow in the middle of her shoulder blades. Finally, he threw a leg over hers, effectively trapping her there.

Slowly, he pulled up the towel, exposing her arse to the cool air. She shivered, partially from the cold, partially from anticipation. Sherlock set his hand at the back of her knee, running it slowly upwards until he was just a hair's breadth from her sex, then back down. Her flesh broke out in goosebumps as he repeated the gesture, once, twice, three times. Then, he lay his hand flat against her arse cheek, fingers spread to cover as much space as possible.

"Are you ready to begin?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Molly swallowed and nodded.

"Do you remember your safe word?" Sherlock inquired.

"Arsenic," Molly whispered.

"Good," he said, and almost immediately, landed a slap against Molly's exposed arse cheek. She yelped and attempted to sit up, but Sherlock dug his elbow into her back, forcing her to stay down. "Now, now, that was just beginning of the warm up. Save your struggling for the crop."

Molly subsided, and lay limp as Sherlock gradually began raining blows down on her with his hand. She squirmed some as the slaps came faster, and was surprised to feel the lazy unwinding of arousal low in her belly. Occasionally, Sherlock's hand dipped down to check her wetness and he chuckled slightly

"I'd say you're enjoying this, aren't you, my little pet?"

Molly swallowed, a fierce blush blooming on her sweaty face. She nodded unsteadily.

"I knew you would. Even though it's a punishment spanking, I'm not giving you much more than you'll find enjoyable. I know you aren't particularly masochistic so we'll stay just this side of real pain, shall we?"

Molly nodded again and Sherlock tsked with his tongue.

"Safe word?" he asked, pausing his blows.

"Arsenic," Molly moaned out. She arched into his hand, searching for the blows.

He resumed his spanking, warming Molly's arse until it was covered in his handprints. He smiled at the sight, loving the look of his marks of possession on her body. Between one blow and the next, he snatched up the crop and landed a hard hit. Molly shrieked and struggled, trying to escape the bite of the leather.

"Don't move!" Sherlock ordered, slapping her bum again with his hand. "Don't move, pet."

Molly stopped struggling and lay panting across Sherlock's lap, whining softly.

"Count. That was one. You have ten." Sherlock slowly removed his hand from her arse, carefully picking up the crop again. "Let me hear you," he said, before landing a relatively soft blow.

Molly gasped, but counted obediently. "Two."

"Good, now…" Sherlock hit her again, twice in quick succession, once on each cheek. He was spreading the blows, not concentrating in one spot. Molly wasn't sure if she was happy about that or not.

"Three, four," she said, panting slightly, teeth clenched. Her body was warring with itself. Her head told her that she was crazy, that he was crazy, that she should be running. Her body though, oh her body was relaxing and arousal was igniting her veins, her very blood thrumming with anticipation. She could feel Sherlock's hard cock through his trousers, brushing against her hipbone. She tried to wiggle closer to it.

"Nuh uh," Sherlock chided, shifting her away from his erection. "Patience."

He landed four more blows, with Molly counting each of them, her voice gradually becoming more breathy and hoarse.

"Last two, okay?" he asked, and hit her twice when Molly nodded, some part of her wondering that he'd asked her, knowing that a dom did not ask permission. But oh, she was well and truly his now, no other thought in her head than to please him and hopefully get some relief from the ache in her core.

"Nine, ten," she finished, going completely limp on his lap. He scooped her up and stood, carrying her to the bedroom. Once there, he deposited her onto the bed and quickly stripped, climbing on top of her.

"You were such a good girl," Sherlock praised, pulling the towel from her and throwing it to the floor. He kissed all over her chest, neck, and belly, murmuring commendations for her performance as he held her hands above her head. Molly glowed under his praises, her body warming to him. A small, barely audible voice in her head screamed against giving herself completely over to him, citing the possibility of attachment, but she shut it out with a promise of sex and nothing more.

"Keep them there," he growled, as he moved down her body, occasionally stopping to mark her. He settled between her legs and gave her a wicked look. "So wet and I've barely touched you." He licked a hot stripe up Molly's inner thigh, nipping at the tender flesh. "I think you liked that spanking more than you'd like to admit."

Molly moaned, reaching above her head to find something to anchor herself to. Finding nothing, she sank her hands into her long hair, pulling at the locks like she wanted to do to Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock grinned, then licked his lips. "I'm going to taste you now, my sweet, little pet," he said.

Molly moaned in response and he chuckled before leaning down to suck on her clit. She moaned louder, her back arching off the bed, pressing her pussy into his mouth. He groaned and wrapped his arms around her thighs, pulling her closer to him.

Sherlock teased her, licking softly at her cunt, then sucking her clit. He varied the pressure, never giving her enough to climax, but keeping her close.

He let go with one arm and slipped a finger into her pussy, before withdrawing it again, to the tune of a disappointed moan from Molly. He grinned against her, and slipped the finger down to circle her other opening. Feeling her tense, he redoubled his efforts with his mouth, gently pressing at her arsehole, just the tip of his finger sliding inside. Molly's climax took them both by surprise, both in timing and in force. She gave a high pitched whine and practically levitated off the bed, going wild, thrashing and fairly screaming 'sir' as she came.

When she quieted, Sherlock sat up, using her towel to clean off his finger. He tossed it over to the door and crawled up her body, kissing each of the marks he'd previously left on her creamy pale skin.

"Please, please fuck me, sir," Molly begged, reaching for him.

"Oh, I'm going to," Sherlock growled, parting her legs to allow room for his hips. He pressed into her slowly, both of them moaning at the sensation. When he didn't move, Molly bucked her hips impatiently.

"Sirrrrr," she whined, desperately moving against him. "Please! You said you would!"

Sherlock grinned down at her then grabbed her legs, pulling them to rest on his shoulders. He bent over her and began a fast, hard pace. Her legs were trapped together so that she couldn't touch her clit and she became more and more frustrated.

"Fuck!" she yelled, half angry, half needy. "Please, sir, please!"

Sherlock let her legs down and reached between them to rub at Molly's clit, not slowing his pace at all.

"Oh god, yes, please! Harder!" Molly babbled, grasping at his hips to keep him deep inside her. Somewhere in her head, she realized she was sounding like a broken record, begging and pleading with him to fuck her harder, but she didn't care. Seconds later, she came again, and though not as strong as the first one, it still had her clawing at Sherlock in a desperate attempt to make him fuck her harder.

The feeling of Molly clamping down around him had Sherlock on the brink almost immediately. He fucked her through her orgasm, thrusting a handful more times before he too came, groaning Molly's name in her ear.

Molly's eyes popped open as soon as Sherlock said her name. Immediately, the warm feeling turned to ice in her veins, the disconnection with reality lost.

Almost as soon as Sherlock rolled off of her and onto the bed, Molly got up and began hunting around for her clothes. Sherlock's use of her real name during sex had shaken her and concreted the idea that she couldn't stay the night. She quickly pulled on her underwear.

Sherlock watched her, bleary eyed and confused, his mind still fogged from his orgasm.

"You can sleep naked, you know," he said.

Molly stopped and stared at him. "Sherlock, I'm going home," she replied slowly.

"What?! It's three in the morning!" Sherlock sat bolt upright in indignation. "You can't leave now!"

"I'll take a cab," Molly said. "I'll be fine."

"Molly no, you have to stay," Sherlock commanded.

Molly stopped dead, having put all of her clothes on, fear gripping her. She couldn't stay now, not when he was trying to force her. Not when she could get attached and once again risk losing someone she cared about. She straightened, her mind clear. She wouldn't run that risk.

"Did you just give me an order?" she asked, barely leashed anger in her voice. "You do NOT give me orders outside of play, do you hear me? I am my own person and you are NOT going to CONTROL ME!"

With that, she left, slamming both Sherlock's bedroom door and the outside door, leaving a stunned Sherlock in her wake.


End file.
